Teacher Creature
by maegrimangel
Summary: Mae has it bad for her Philosophy Professor. Can she persuade him to look her way? Original story that fulfills all your teacher fetishes. M for language and some steamy scenes.
1. Chapter 1: Hots for Teacher

Chapter 1:

_Hots For Teacher_

"What do you mean?" I probed the air with a slender hand to ask my Professor yet another eye-rolling question. The students grumbled as my Professor had to re-explain the subject matter to me. I searched my brain for a connection and finally grasped the idea.

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><p>Mae isn't a slow girl, nor is she inattentive. Philosophy isn't her strongest subject because she really didn't understand the concepts. She wasn't sure if it was the actual material or the man who taught her the subject matter which made her nervous. She is always attracted to older men, bonus for professors, and this Professor was no exception.<p>

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><p>He is tall, lumbering actually, and Irish. He didn't have an accent but his deep blue eyes stuck onto hers, mixing in a crashing war of blue hue. He isn't old, more around forty-five years of age; light streaks of grey danced through his dark brown, medium, soft, wavy hair. He is a bit nerdy, with square-cut glasses and button down shirts. Sometimes even the occasional black tee with a black blazer and nicely fitted jeans. The most attractive attribute is his clumsiness. He walks around the classroom, because he never desires to stay put, and constantly trips over the legs of chairs or the side of the front desk. He is strange and goofy; but has a calm demeanor. My eyes love to follow him around the room as the classroom was swallowed within a deep argument; how his pace quickened, his voice became loud with excitement, and it was almost like watching a rainstorm brew in sheer enthusiasm. It excited me as well. I became fidgety in my seat watching him pace the room, making wild gestures; I almost felt the surge of energy from his argument leap into me. It's a spectacular sight to see.<p>

I found myself vying for his attention. I craved it because he seemed to give everyone the same amount of attention, but I wanted it all. I searched his hand and didn't find any silver or gold, and grinned at my findings, closed my eyes, and went off into daydream land. Reality sunk back in and I realized that I had no idea what we were discussing. I raise my hand, "So, is this against the freedom of choice, or will?" reading some of the words that were up on the board so, by any grace of god, he may be able to repeat the argument topic.

"Well, it is more of individual opinion; she might think that we have free choices but not free will." _Ah, so we are talking about Karen, the depressed sociopath example in the text_.

I watch as Professor Kelly sits awkwardly on the corner of his desk. One of his legs is folded underneath the other and he is sitting more off the desk than on. I studied his position and unintentionally my gaze rested upon the middle of his pants, from where I sat, was right in the middle of my field of vision. I glanced upward, _Oh shit, I think he saw me, oh God! Please no, please tell me that he didn't see me staring at his junk. Guuuh, this is bad_. I jumped over my notebook which was full of more doodles than notes and started scribbling down whatever the hell was on the board in it, glanced toward him once more, and saw him smirking at me. _What the Hell! Did he want me to check him out…don't think about that. Just worry on the matter….__**his..matter**__…GUUH! What is wrong with me_! I felt a sudden warmth rise up into my face and I realized that I must be a tomato by now. I threaded my fingers through my hair and bit on the back of my pen. _Grr, that man is such a tease without even knowing it. The slight turn of his step, the flex of his muscles, his own sense of style is enough to cause my arousal. What is wrong with me? How am I so easily influenced by the subtle nuances to a completely oblivious stranger?_

At any rate, I realized that my studies alone will not make me pass this class. The recommended reading in the texts are even too difficult for me to comprehend…_oh the way he talks, he is so articulate…Snap out of it Mae! Jeeze! What are you! A walking erection? Focus!_ I have to make a friend in the class on order to pass. I giggled to myself, _my god, if someone can read minds; they would have a field day in mine._ As I thought that, I glanced over to my Professor who was now leaning on the high table for the computer explaining the difference between definitions of same and similar. In the middle of his explanation a student raised their hand for a question. In receiving this question he glided over, sat on his low desk, and gazed at the floor for an answer. He pondered for a good minute, trying to pick the right words; his brow furrowing, licking his soft lips, he traced the lining of his face with his right index finger and looked up. Before he answered her question he glanced over at me, to make sure I was paying attention, and he smiled. _He fucking smiled at me_. It was a sort of playful smile and my heart leapt. My already flushed face gave way for a whole new shade of magenta but I could not shake his gaze. I sort of shyly smiled back and he gave a small exhale chuckle. He, of course, answered her question with absolute grace and poignancy. I sat back and breathed in his words.

Before I knew it I was back in daydream land and the class was over. I snapped back into reality and got out of my chair, which is always front row center. I gathered my things and spun around, without knowing it, I marched forward and right into Professor Kelly's chest. I stumbled backward and looked up into his face. "Oh my god, I-I'm so sorry!"

I looked down at the ground and I heard his voice shower over me, "Whoa! In a hurry? It's okay, hey; by the way, did you have any troubles with my lecture today?" _Oh, yeah, there is one __huge __**issue**_.

I looked up into those big baby blues and mumbled, "Oh…uhm, I guess this subject really isn't my best." I giggled cutely and sighed. _Dodged a bullet there._

"Oh, haha, well, if that is the case, you can always feel free to visit me in my office hours. They are on the first page of the syllabus." He warmly stated to me. _Yeah, that might not be the best of ideas there, Professor_.

"Thank you very much! I probably will." I sweetly put.

"Yeah? The best day to come is on Thursday s at 5:15pm. I have the least amount of work to do, so I can focus all my time on _my students_." Professor Kelly grinned into me. I felt slightly uneasy at those last two words, and yet intrigued. _What did he mean '_my students'_?_ I looked into his eyes and suddenly felt so small in front of him, like his body could utterly cover and consume mine completely.


	2. Chapter 2: Quizzical Thoughts

Chapter 2:

_Quizzical Thoughts_

I nodded my head, slightly in a trance by his electric eyes, and shuffled out the door. I let out a rough sigh and slouched against the wall for comfort. I felt like if the wall wasn't there, my legs would crumble beneath the weight of the tension between my Professor and me.

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><p>Mae was the kind of student that always paid attention in class. She made high marks and prided herself on her schooling; even though she attended Community College, she was proud. It was her only choice due to her desire to hold off student loan debt as long as she could. It will be unavoidable next semester when she finally transfers.<p>

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><p>I regain my composure and reach into my bag, grasp my iPod, place the gigantic headphones over my ears, and play the first song that comes on via shuffle: <em>Father Figure<em> by George Michael. _Are you fucking kidding me?_ _Damn, I have no time to change it; I have to rush over to my next class…which starts in ten minutes...across campus. _My feet speed walk up the steep hill; my breaths are laborious and long. I self-consciously pretend to yawn or sigh to prevent attention to my hard breathing. Thoughts of my Professor plagued my mind. I began to slip away into a perverted coma; thinking of different ways to tie him up. He seems like the person who would like to be dominated. An image of him with his hands handcuffed in the back of him, chained up to a hook in the chalk board, his bare chest heaving in and out…_what the hell? I gotta get to my next class!_ I always tend to feel a bit strangely vulnerable when thinking of those situations. Sure enough, I slip back into my coma and swoon at the slight protrusion of his clavicle, the beautiful slope of his nose, his scent: Sandalwood and Honey. I would give anything to trace, ever so lightly, the muscles on his bicep or every rib in his chest.

Coming back into reality I was climbing the stairs leading up to my next class. _Shit, here already?_ My steps were short but in a fast pace. I get to the room with five minutes to spare. _How is that even possible?_ I plopped down next to my friend who is smiling cutely at me, her short blonde hair glistening under the florescent lights. I have always envied her for her amazing golden locks, so wild and full of volume. "You seem a bit preoccupied." She giggled at me and shuffled her books. I loved the way her slender neck met her shoulders in a graceful creamy angle, her hands small but dainty, her abs were flat from years of athletic practice. I envied her, no matter what. My awkward body was proof of that. My tummy was a medium sized paunch, which made me look three months pregnant under all the wrong circumstances. I was tall though, 5'7", and my legs were long and nicely toned. My ankles are unnaturally skinny to hold all my weight on them, and my breasts were pretty big themselves. I was considered healthy, at least to BMI standards. I was curvy, I guess you could say. Nothing compared to Charlotte. Nothing compared to her body at all. She was perfect. Petite and busty. I envied the fuck out of her. _Oh well, no use in obsessing over her. I wanna get back to my Professor…no…I shouldn't!_ I enlightened Charlotte on my little endeavor, and big surprise, she gasped and flailed her arms everywhere. "Oh my GOD Mae! That is so awesome!" she screamed at me.

"How is it awesome? I have a crush on someone who is, by no measure, ever going to be interested in me!" I tried to quietly whisper to her, as if to calm her down. It was no use; she was in full swing now.

"When you bumped into him did you touch his dick?" Charlotte giggled from underneath her eyelashes.

"WHAT? No! Wait…I don't know! What ever happened was purely accidental!" I barked at her. Our professor came in fashionably late, as always, and started discussing the story we had to read for homework. Charlotte passed me a note: it was a crudely drawn picture depicting me on my knees with a collar and a tall man holding a leash attached to the middle link in the leather choker. I gasped and immediately slapped her thigh underneath the desk, looked at her, and she mouthed "_Flip it over!"_ I turned over the picture and read the words "_Some attention would do you some good!"_ I shot her a look. _Not this kind of attention._ I sighed and shook my head at her. She responded with a shrug, looking forward to our professor at hand.

I thought more obsessively, picking apart every word he used. In any other context it would be completely innocent, maybe I was over thinking it. Maybe he meant nothing by it at all; maybe he was just genuinely concerned for my understanding of the material. I was always trying my best to keep up the discussion in class and ask questions when confused. I can really be like that sometimes, spinning the meaning of words so it benefits me. I guess it really wasn't anything to worry about. It's only Monday anyway. I have one more class with him before his office hours so I can get this mess out of my head!

I glanced over at Charlotte who was staring at me strangely. I gave her a quizzical look and she just whispered, "It seemed like you were having some fun in your mind there. I thought I lost you forever to your fantasies!"

I sighed, "It's not like that" looked down at my paper "I was just thinking that it is all nonsense. I'm over thinking it. He was being cordial."

She snorted, "Yeah, _cordially _shoving his crotch in your face." I shuddered out of embarrassment and giggled slightly. The professor left the room to go to the bathroom. I thumbed through my notes and found the scribbled up page when, in his class, I caught his gaze after checking him out. "Oh shit and I thought _my_ handwriting was bad!" Charlotte commented on the chicken scratch of notes that I had jotted down, "He must have really caught your attention 'cause you definitely weren't paying any attention to whatever you were writing!"

I slumped over onto the top of my desk, "What am I going to do, Charlotte?" Looking onto the ink-filled crater that was my notebook I felt at a loss for ideas. I peeked over to her in the corner of my eye and I saw her staring into me.

I turned my head to her and she uttered, "I think you should wait it out. If he makes any real advances than I say 'what have you got to lose?'"

I smiled gracefully, wrapped my arms around her, and took her toward me in a warm embrace, "Thank you, sweetie."


	3. Chapter 3: The Big Test

Chapter 3:

_The Big Test_

Tuesday could never have passed so slowly in my whole entire life. I was constantly worrying about how his next class will turn out. I made sure that my outfit was cute, and yet stylishly attractive. _Don't overdo the cleavage._ I got my keys and ran out the door.

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><p>Mae never really had any trustworthy friends throughout high school, so through college she vowed to make new ones. That is when she met Charlotte in her Acting 101 class their first semester at college. They have been mutually romantically attracted to one another, but didn't want that to get in the way of their friendship, for now that is.<p>

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><p>My heart was throbbing out of my chest the whole way to the college parking lot. It was packed so I waited on the edge of one of the rows and hunted. I flagged down a walker-by and they directed me to their spot. It was a tough fit, but my little car made it in perfectly. <em>That was easy enough<em>. I gathered my books and put my headphones on. I didn't care what I listened to because all I wanted to listen to was my Professor's voice. _Okay, this is getting bad now. This infatuation has been going on far too long. This ends today. This is one exam I hope I do not fail._ I dutifully strutted into my classroom and secured my nerd-throne. Around three minutes until the class began my Professor sauntered into the room. _Oh god no, you are not giving up without a fight, are you?_

He was wearing a light blue polka dot button down underneath an argyle black and grey pullover cardigan. His black pants were unusually tight today; white smudges of chalk already dusted the pockets due to chalky hands exploring the folds. The overpowering scent of his being took me over in a wave of spices. I perused his person finding the collar in the back of his button down slightly upturned in a charming way, his shoes neatly polished, both cuffs to his polka-dot shirt button…_oh wait, he's unbuttoning them?...Oh no…He is rolling up his sleeves…oh god._ His arms were coated in a dark auburn hair, the muscles slightly defined toward his elbow. _Fuck it, you win._

I looked down at my cell phone. Class is to begin any minute now. I peek over at him from my cell and he is consumed by his laptop he brought with him. Every class he brings it and fiddles around with it until class begins. I always wonder what he is doing on it, probably typing up e-mails to students. Maybe he is checking on items he is bidding on eBay. I snicker to myself and come to the sudden realization that I am still staring at him, and that he is staring back at me. _Shit!_ I try to pry my vision away from his but he turns his head slightly –he is peering at me through the corner of his eyes, combs his fingers through his hair, closes his eyes, breaths in deeply, his chest heaves in a slow and sensual manner, stands up, and begins his lecture.

I finally close my own eyes and become conscious that during his small act I had held my breath. _He is giving me a breath-tease. I didn't realize him breathing could turn me on so much. Has it really been that long?_ My senses were delicate due to the fact that I hadn't even been with another person for over a year. _This is bad. _He began to explain the theory behind two great philosophers and I couldn't keep my eyes off of his cuffs. _Why did he have to go and do that? Weren't they fine in their down position?_

I raised my hand, "So, you are saying that he has the same ideas but didn't share them because he was afraid that he would be in agreement?"

He closed his eyes, leaned his strong elbows on the high desk, extended his neck, and stole my eyes with his, "Yes, isn't that the scariest part of having an idea? Even in agreement there is room for scrutiny, and not every idea could be fully agreed on. There could be many variations of an idea."

I shook my head, "But that doesn't mean that keeping an idea inside, away from the knowledge of the world, no matter how small it might be, is the right thing to do."

A smile slowly crept its way through his face, "Now therein lies the problem, do you say the idea outright? Or do you wait for another to state the same idea but you have the room to agree or modify it."

I completely forgot whatever the original topic of discussion was. I got lost within his logical simper and intelligent eyes. I expressed through a grin of my own, "Hmm…I think it gives you more credit to state an idea before someone else, you can site it as an original idea." He leaves the higher desk to wander to the one directly in front of me, crossing his arms behind his back, grasping his fingers gradually, stands to the side of it, places his hand on the surface, and begins tracing the edges of it with a curious finger, _a hungry finger_. He leaned against the desk leisurely pondering a way to retort to my statement. _This time he is thinking of what to say to me, which means that his mind is completely consumed by me at the moment!_

He opens his eyes on me, "Who has an original idea, really? Aren't all of our ideas equally influenced by things beyond our comprehension or things that unintentionally influence our thoughts? And do you really want that thought to be yours originally, even if the idea brings something bigger than you had ever imagined?" He placed his palms on the top of the desk, supporting his weight. His muscles tensed and stuck out ever so slightly from underneath his shirt. '_Bigger than I imagined?' I hope not. I can't really take any bigger than what I had imagined._

His face relaxed, fixed on mine. Another student interrupted my flow of ideas by shouting out, "Yes, but the ideas we can claim for ourselves. No matter what, we must take responsibility for them." It might have just been my imagination but I could sense a wave of disappointment when the other voice panged in our ears. I thought I saw his expression sink ever so softly. The corners of his fresh smile retracted a bit as he answered the pervasive voice.

I felt calm. I felt curious. I didn't know where the conversation we had was going but I sort have knew it was about more than just the two philosophers. _Was he thinking the same thoughts I was? Oh man, that would be something else. I would love to know what he thinks I enjoy in bed._ He left his desk and continued writing on the board, as if he just remembered he was teaching a class. _I doubt he was even thinking of that sort of stuff._ I looked shamefully at my notebook and suddenly felt exhausted; like there has been a massive weight on my chest for some time now. I feel lachrymose, gazing into my notebook for answers.

I sensed my Professor was almost finished writing the new topic on the board. His microscopic piece of chalk broke into bits when writing the second phrase. "_WANT V.S. NEED"? Oh god, what does that mean?_ His adorable clumsiness made him fumble and tackle the second piece of chalk; bits of it flying from where he keeps dropping it into the long metal tray attached to the bottom of the black board. My eyes heavily drifted toward the board. "WANT V.S. NEED: the struggle between passion and desire". _Erk! What?_ Dotting a period at the last letter the piece finally gave way to tons of small particles. He chuckled to himself, "Can't even cooperate for a minute?" I snigger to myself and watch him spin quickly on the heels of his feet, catching me by surprise. He opens his arms wide, "So, can anyone tell me the difference between wanting something and needing it?"

A voice cried out, "Wanting something is when you do not require it for survival and needing something is necessary to survive; like water."

My Professor nods his head then reaches his arms up to caress the sides of his hair, bringing down his hands on his face, smoothing the jaw line with the left, opening his right hand's digits to push his glasses up his nose with the smallest finger, slowly caressing the tip of his nose with the dutiful pinkie, "But when does wanting something turn into needing it?" We all sat there in our seats like a cluster of corpses. He scouts the room for a sign of recognition but returns fruitless. He then turns his face to my side of the room, cautiously placing his eyes on me. He searches my face for any hint of an answer; the left corner of his smooth lips rise in curiosity when he witnesses my expression turns to confusion. _What is he trying to pull on me?_ He studies the rest of the quiet class and meanders over to the window on the right side of the room. Stares outside for a good fifty seconds and then swiftly turns around once again. He struts to the center of the room patiently waiting an answer, not rushing the group. _Is he going to say anything?_ I stare at him intently; my face still frozen in a confused gaze.

He places his palms on the desk, spreading them outward. A voice suddenly breaks the silence and my Professor snaps his head up, a sprig of hair falls stylishly in front of his face, "It is a mind set. You can re-wire your brain to believe that you need something that you don't have to acquire for survival."

Professor Kelly pounds the desk with his left hand and points at the student with his right, "Aha! You believe we can choose what we need? That, right now, if I believe my life depended on it; I could jump right out of the window? Right now, I could throw this chair into the wall! If I thought my life depended on it?"

The same booming voice yelled, "Well, yes. I believe that you can trick your brain into believing anything over time, even loving someone." _L-l-loving someone?_ I immediately felt like someone was watching me. I carefully turned my head to my Professor's direction and connected with his eyes instantaneously. _Had he looked at me when the other student had said…no…it can't be. _He quickly broke contact and cleared his throat. It seemed as if he unintentionally gawked at me. _Oh really Professor? We going to play like that, are we?_

I sat up proudly in my seat, "That is true. If you tell something to yourself enough you start believing it as reality."

My professor widened his eyes a bit at me. He put his hand over his mouth and considered the thought. He removed his hand, "So, you are saying you can create your own reality? That the ones you love in this world are completely under your control?"

I smirked, "No, I am not saying that. More like you can only control how you think, half the fun is the unexpected of course." I raised my eyebrow a bit at the last few words.

He crossed over to the front of the classroom again, "Yes, that is true. Heh." He beamed lightly at the floor and sat on the table, raising his right knee up, holding it with his right arm close to his chest…_there it is again._ The center of his pants was dead center in my view. I tried to keep my composure but I tiny laugh stifled out of me. I immediately ducked my head down low to my book. He looked at me curiously and proposed, "So what if you can control, without a doubt, what you believe. What is the point of trying to convince you otherwise? If you really believe that jumping out the window will save your life, is there anything that would be able to persuade you not to?"

To be polite I had to look at him when I spoke, but then I ran into the crotch-staring dilemma. _Come on, Mae. Just look at him! It isn't that hard!_ I mustered up enough courage to respond to him. I lifted my head and my eyes ran up the length of his whole body in a quick two seconds, the delicate tip of his shoe, the extent of his calf, to his knee, the span of his thigh…_don't look at it…_quickly jumped to his chest, up his charming neck, around his tight strong jaw, to his luminous eyes, "If you have a convincing enough argument and charisma, anything is possible!"

The whole class chuckled. Professor Kelly laughed, "Yes, with charm, a person can do what they wish to anything and anyone."

I felt a lump in the back of my throat when I finally noticed; _this is much more than regular Philosophy class discussion_. I slouched deeply in my chair and closed my eyes. _Oh shit, man. I'm in deep now. What do I do? Do I go on and pursue him? Oh god, he must be twenty-five years older than me…more experience though. Shut up! Okay, pros and cons? Pro: Super Sexy, Con: He's my fucking Professor. Pro: Smarts, Con: I'm not as smart._

"Mae?"

_Think. What is the worst thing that could happen? Oh yea, it happens to be illegal in New York to date one of your teachers for obvious reasons. _

"Mae?"

_Well, we don't have to be dating necessarily. What? I'm not that kind of person! _All of a sudden I feel a light pressure on my right shoulder.

"Mae?" I flutter my eyes open, right in front of my face is him. Approximately a foot away from my own face is his. My Professor's immense hand rested upon my shoulder. The heat from his palm sunk deep into my bones. I jerk up in realization and search his face for a response. "Mae? You seemed to have dozed off or something. Haha, I didn't think my lecture was that boring today; although you seemed pretty animated today. I guess looks can be deceiving."

His smile was warm and welcomed by my own. "Oh man, no, Professor. I'm sorry! I was just in deep thought!" His hand still perched on my shoulder; he moved his digits slightly; adjusting them to a more comfortable position. _Why hasn't he removed his hand yet?_

"I'm sure you were. No daydreaming in my class? Haha, don't let your mind wander too far. Sometimes thoughts get out of hand like that." He slowly withdrew his hand, caressing my shoulder slightly. _Only if you knew the half of it._

"W-well Professor, I will be sure to try to stay attentive at all times. Sometimes my mind does wander and, to tell you the truth, I don't even know where it might end up." I giggled delicately.

He didn't say anything. His expression was unreadable. I was frozen. Staring into him, staring into me. My heartbeat ringing in my ears. My legs rubbed faintly to alleviate any uncomfortable stimulation from his contact. I licked my ambitious lips and inhaled roughly. His face mere inches away from mine, teasing my aching body. I looked down at his hands, now in his pockets. Abruptly he began to grin cheek to cheek, like he found something that he was searching for! He was observing me like a specimen behind glass! _Is he mocking me? That bastard. Toying with my emotions. I bet he is feeding off my excitement._ "Tomorrow then?" He withdraws his face away from mine, his grin still cracked across his face. _What did he expect me to do? I just fucking sat there. Gaping at him._

I picked my bag up, and as picked up my headphones I realized what he had found. I fiddled with my iPod and peered at my reflection. My eyes. They were cavernous, brimming with abandon. It didn't help that my cheeks were beet red. _How ignorant to my own expressions can I be? How thick am I?_ _Wait…am I __**drooling**__? No..uggh just some excess saliva in my mouth. Thank god for that, I didn't think it could have gotten more embarrassing. _

I gathered up my books and start hobbling out of class. "Oh yeah, Mae…" I snapped my body around to face him. He was carefully placing his laptop in his bag, eyes focused on it, "…don't be late." His body hunched over the bag on the desk, lifted his head to meet my gaze. I nodded my head with a weak whimper and finally exited the room. Looks like I failed the most important test to never let him catch onto my sentiments.


	4. Chapter 4: Raising Questions

Chapter 4:

_Raising Questions_

Looking down the hallway I try to focus on something else, _the weather, the color of the wal…oh shit!_ Without skipping a beat I instantly trip over my own two feet and papers scatter and fly to freedom. My knees hit the ground brutally. Flailing my arms about like a crazy woman, trying to scoop up my disaster. I reached for a paper that was light blue and instantly as my fingertips slid on the surface another hand retracted the blue piece away. I froze. _Oh no…someone saw me trip over nothing…gotta make an excuse_. "Heh, mus'ave lost concentration there a bit."

The person gently whispered, "Hehe, seems like a really bad habit..."

_Fuck!_

"...best not to let it get to you." The familiar voice made fun of my desperate attempt to reclaim my articles with a light chuckle. I sat back on my knees and the outstretched hand grasping my paper was attached to the body I knew very well.

My Professor Kelly was crouched in front of me with an innocent smile. He worked to gather the rest of the papers that flown too far away from my slumped body. All I could do was watch. Watch as he scuffled clumsily collect the remaining papers.

"T-thank you Professor" In a stupor I reached my hand out to receive the papers he had gathered up. I quickly snatched them and shoved them back into my notebook. He stared at me shuffling my things back to its proper place and rose up to his proper height, extended a hand to me, and pulled me up to mine.

I gazed into his eyes as he elevated me and he smiled, "I'm glad you didn't hurt yourself. You have to be careful when daydreaming."

I grasped a loose strand of hair and placed it behind my ear with a cute smirk, "Yeah, thanks. My thoughts have been rather dangerous lately." _Eh? Did I just say that out loud?_ I opened my eyes wide in shock of what I just said. He picked up a white paper right by my feet, handed it to me; closing the gap.

He glanced through the corner of his eyes, "Is that so, hopefully nothing life-threatening?"

I laughed a little too loud, "No, no, haha, nothing like that!" He smiled goofily and laughed heartily. I slowed my laughter, "Yeah, not like that. More just…strange…and…" I trailed off and blushed so hard I felt my face should have caught on fire. He lowered his eyebrows, confused and intrigued. "…anyway, I am sorry you had to see me like this."

He raised his hand to rub his fingers on his neck and chortled, "I know I trip over lots of things in class. It really isn't a big deal." He looked away at the walls; adverting my eyes. His cheeks flushed with a light pink hue. I hummed lightly, and he looked sincerely into me.

I picked my bag up and onto my shoulder, "I'd really love to stay and chat, but I must be going to my class. It starts in ten minutes across campus."

He frowned slightly and then grinned brightly, "But I'll see you tomorrow?"

I exhaled slightly in a light laugh, "Yes, Professor. At 5:15." He nodded quickly and strutted past me. I stood there for a little while and then glanced back at him. His form leaving the hallway, turned around slightly to peek at me.

* * *

><p>Mae can sometimes be a bit nosy. She has a tendency to try to keep to herself, but every fruitless selfless endeavor left her jaded. She would intervene in problems that had the least bit to do with her; all for someone else's benefit, and partially to be noticed and praised for going out of her way to help them…only to be ignored once again.<p>

* * *

><p>I shake my head briefly and scoot out of the hallway, swiftly making haste to my next class. <em>I'm pretty sure he means business. Breathe, Mae. I can still hear him calling out my name in class! How embarrassing!<em> _Charlotte will know what to do._ I enter my class and run into my chair next to Charlotte. My books fall all over the floor again and I just stared at her. She raised an eyebrow, chuckling, "That bad, huh?"

I shook my head, "You have no idea!" I gathered up my shit and shoved it all on my desk, not caring about the arrangement. I flopped into my chair and looked at her desperately.

She faced me, "What happened, girlie?"

I tilted my head back and stared at the ceiling, "I fucked shit up big time. I'm in deep, my dear."

She gasped, "You didn't-",

I snapped, "-No-no-no! I didn't do anything physically but I am in a bit of a bind."

She listened intently as I told her every last detail of my complete and utter humiliation. She laughed her ass off as our professor saunters in the classroom, ten minutes late. _Why do I even worry about being late?_

Charlotte gives me a serious look and whispers, "What are you gonna do?"

I wobble my head pathetically, "I have no idea. I was hoping you had some awesome advice for me, as you always do." She frowned at me.

_No such luck. I'll let her mow it over while I try to come up with a plan._ The class lazily continues for another thirty minutes until she passes me a note: _"I think you should play dumb/hard-to-get. If he really wants it, he will take it, or at least move first. He's twice your age for Christ's sake!"_

I laugh a bit and wrote: "_Yeah, which seems like the best thing to do. I just don't know what to do if he tries touching me or anything. You know how long it's been since I've been with another person. I don't want him to be turned off by my rustiness." _

I sent the note her way and her mouth immediately puckered out, holding in her booming laughter. She finally calmed down and scribbled something down, then sent it back my way: "_Well, he i__**s **__your teacher after all, I'm sure he can show you the ropes!"_ _Yeah, okay…have you ever met the guy? The only thing he plans ahead is his curriculum. _I am so nervous, a wadded up ball of uneasiness was rotting away inside me.

I stared off at Charlotte, how I envied her; perfect smile, perfect demeanor, a chaste specimen of human will and sheer endurance. My eyes trailed off to her shoulders that were small and dainty, down to her chest; slowly heaving in and out, to her perfect legs; concealed in baggy pants, folded underneath her. I am so lucky to be in the presence of such magnificence. She reminded me of an autumn day; full of color and purely refreshing. Her advice was usually a hundred percent correct. I trusted her more than I trusted myself. We have been through so much together; so much that some people older than us have yet to experience. She glanced over at me and then looked straight ahead of her; slightly blushing at me staring at her. _She's so cute when she gets all self-conscious when I gaze at her. _She peeked over at me and whispered, "So, is that what you are going to do tomorrow?"

I responded with a deep nod. _What other choice do I have?_

When class ended, we both walked out of class with a slow shuffle; the dilemma still on our minds. She looked at me, "Well, what's the worst that could happen?"

I scoffed, "I could get too emotionally involved and die."

She laughed loudly, "You are way too funny for your own good!" We walked down the hallway and down the stairs.

As we were approaching the first turn to get to the final corridor to the exit a voice resonated through the hall, "Mae!" I immediately spun around at the voice and staring at me down the hall was my Professor.

I turned to Charlotte and she mouthed, "_No way!"_ I gave her a scared look as Professor Kelly approached us in the hallway. He was slightly out of breath, his hair was adorably messed up, tresses lining the frame of his face, he pushed his glasses up his nose with one motion; leading his hand up to his hair to smoothen it out.

He waved, "Hey, how are you? Oh yeah! I have something for you!" I shot Charlotte a look and she was grinning cheek-to-cheek at me. He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a green folder. He opened it fast, a yellow paper falling to the ground. He slammed the folder shut and shakily scooped the piece up to hand it to me. It was a sheet that I needed for a later assignment in his class.

"Thank you so much Professor. Without this I would have received a zero for the assignment." I glanced at Charlotte and she was poorly stifling a laugh.

He nodded and placed the folder back into his bag, "It flew away from you; so far in fact, it was on the other side of the hallway! I tried calling your name but you had your headphones on."

He looked a bit hurt at this, I felt concerned for him. "Oh! I'm sorry! I do that! I love listening to my music; literally the only thing that makes me able to walk to my class." I gave him a gentle smile, and he reciprocated a charming smirk.

A loud noise snapped me back into reality, Charlotte let out a series of obnoxious coughs to regain my attention. "Oh yes! We should be going now, Professor. Thank you, oh so much, for my paper back. I will see you tomorrow!" I cheerfully declared. He smiled a bit and waved at me as I passed him. All I could hear is my heart, beating faster than anything I have ever heard before. _How can he be so confusing? Sultry and seducing the first moment and clumsy and cute the next; I don't get it! This man is driving me insane._ Charlotte and I bolt out of the building, as we stepped our first foot out of the building she exploded in laughter.

I just stood there, staring at her, waiting for her to stop; when she finally calmed down, "Oh man girl, haha, wow! He really is a catch! Not even joking. He's fucking smoking hot! And he has that sexy nerd thing going on. I'm digging it! Go for it dude, I can feel the tension between you two. There is defiantly something going on." I dropped my head and stared at my feet as we marched to our cars. _Could this be real? Something like this actually happening to me?_


	5. Chapter 5: Psychology and Selfloathing

Chapter 5

_Psychology and Self-loathing_

I parked my car in the front of the house and pressed my face into the steering wheel with a heavy sigh. _How could this happen to me?_ I picked my bag and books and scooted out of the car. I quickly jogged into my house, just now realizing how hungry I was. Sifting through the contents of the refrigerator my eyes settled on a tray of beef burger patties. I turned the stove on, sprayed the pan, dumped the two patties in the pan, and went into my room to recover my laptop. I turned my music player on and put my library on shuffle. _Nah…I wanna listen to classical music._ So I put my classical music playlist on and gracefully made my two burgers. Flipping them over, making sure that the mesh grease-catcher was on top of the pan to make sure clean up was as simple as possible. When it seemed like they were cooked enough I placed the mozzarella cheese on top of each patty and watched it melt.

I was alone in the house until about five-thirty when my Mother comes home. I glanced at the clock: 4:45. _Woah, we got out of class early today!_ I slipped the patties on a regular piece of bread I cut in half. _I can't believe we don't have any burger buns and all these patties. _I plopped into my chair, reading the most recent developments on my blog. _Coldplay? Is that what is playing?_ I switched over to my music player and sure enough, it was Coldplay. I didn't mind it; the sweet melodies mixed with my emotions and let me relax a bit more. Biting into my burger I thought of him. I thought of how close we were and how I could feel his warmth feeding onto mine. I re-adjusted myself in my seat due to the uncomfortable arousal setting in between my legs. Then I felt it, I actually felt the warmth of him on my legs.

Before I knew it, ketchup was spilling out the bottom and onto my jeans. _Aw shit!_ I leaned over and snatched a napkin to clean up my mortification. I slumped back into my chair, singing along to the melancholy lyrics. I finish the song and sprawled myself on top of the kitchen table. _I'm so tense. _I thought of something that might curve my anxiety and my head shot up and stared at the freezer. _Chocolate ice cream!_ I gulped down the remaining piece of my burger and floated to the freezer, picked up the carton, a spoon, and started shoveling it down. I abruptly sighed in relief and slammed the carton on the table, a gaping hole in the surface of the ice cream smiled at me. I wiped the chocolate war streaks from my face with a napkin, placing it delicately on my empty plate.

* * *

><p>Mae was a stubborn girl. She knew what she liked and stuck to it, not saying she wasn't the type to try new things. She was skilled at crafts and drawing; not the best, not the worst. If only she would work to enhance her skills over obsessing with her Professor, she might actually exceed her own expectations for her art.<p>

* * *

><p>For a moment I thought of his hands reaching for the blue paper on the floor; how long his fingers were, how rough the exterior must have been to the touch; the hands of brilliance, of experience. They looked as if they had numerous tales to weave. Oh! How I longed to graze the surface of those hands, so softly, so tenderly. They enchanted my mind; every crease, every little nick and red scratch that enhanced the color of the digits. I love how his hands were constantly in motion during class; whether it was pointing, gesturing, or exclaiming. It brought life into the stuffy little room that we were forced to occupy.<p>

I liked how the top button on his shirt fluctuates class to class, between being buttoned and unbuttoned; like it were letting his chest and neck breathe. Such a simple, curious, little thing, a button is. It can conceal what I desire and, little by little, reveal it to me. It is one of the most seductive fastenings an article of clothing can have. Zippers are also seductive, but not in the way a button is. A button chooses what to show; it feeds off the wants of others and sometimes it can act in the opposite way, teasing and maniacally plotting against them. Or it can be generous; mercifully giving them what is so painfully desired. It reveals more of the person underneath than it intends, with every unfastening more of the skin is shown, with every unfastening I become closer to my aching need. A tiny plastic disc can make or break my relationship with my Professor, it all rests in the buttons.

I re-affirmed my reality and cleaned up the dishes I soiled. I picked up my laptop and rushed into my room as my Mother's car glided down the driveway. I shut the door and plopped my laptop on its stand on my bed, plugging it into its charger and flopping down on my bed. _I have to make a plan._ I picked up my laptop and stretched my legs out, placing it on top of them. I opened a word document and stared blankly at the screen. Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought of what to write. Nothing came up, no words, phrases, nor sentences.

Frustrated, I typed, "_I am a disaster. I am a joke. What would he want with me? Someone like me. A complete waste of space. An utter mockery of the human race. I am the lowest of the low…"_ Tears now falling freely onto my chest, "_But someone has seen me. Someone has looked into my eyes and connected to my heart. As far as I know right now I could be making shit up, but I have to write this down. No matter what happens between me and this person, I know I will stay true to myself and to never give anything for free." _A sudden wave of confidence shuddered inside my chest, "_I am Mae White and will stay this way no matter what. I know what I desire, noble or not, I may obtain it. When I reflect upon my decisions, I hope that I made the right ones." _I read the words over and over, instilling this idea into my brain. I held my breath for a moment and exhaled it into the free air. _Tomorrow, yes, tomorrow will be a day of change_. _I can feel it, and it is empowering_.


	6. Chapter 6: First Night, After Hours

Chapter 6:

_First Night, After Hours_

Waking up to feeling tense isn't something that I am accustomed to. I got up, waddled out of bed, went to the bathroom, waddled back into my room, and sat on the edge of my bed searching my cluttered floor for inspiration for today's outfit. _Something sexy, but sophisticated._ I grabbed a long teal tank top, boot-cut dark grey jeans, and a black cardigan. I made my make-up soft, but noticeable. I put my regular black flats on, picked my books up from the kitchen table, grabbed my keys, and told myself: _Everything will be okay, just believe it will be. You will be fine_.

* * *

><p>Mae was humble. She liked to be surrounded by people who cared for her, but cared enough for her to tell her the truth about herself. In high school she wasn't the most popular, more so the most infamous. She tried to fit in with the group of friends she knew over the years but they all grew apart so much. It was hard for her to make many new female friends due to her competitive nature and faint greed. She had her pride, which kept her going most of the time. She was confident in the way that she dressed herself and acted.<p>

* * *

><p>I attended my first class with restlessness; constantly shifting in my chair, checking the time, and leaving the room to go to the bathroom to wash my face, not to mention it was boring as hell anyways. My second class was alright, drawing always tends to calm me down. Too bad it was life drawing and there was a nude model standing right in front of me. His body kept my attention away from my Professor's though, which was a relief. My second class ended early at 4:56 and I proceeded to walk to my Professor's office. It was in the same building, up some stairs, so it was easy to access. I slowed my steps, gaining ground toward my Professor's office.<p>

The faint sound of music filled the hallway. Inquisitively I tip toed next to his office, to find that the music was coming from his room. _Hmm…I know this song…_ I listened intently to the piano, and then the singing came in. _This must be a cover of a song I know…_trying to decipher the lyrics through the low voice singing. I started to mouth the lyrics…_The Scientist by Coldplay? I was just listening to this last night…no…it's not a cover…oh…_Professor Kelly sang along to the melodies perfectly. I placed my back on the wall by his office and closed my eyes; letting the notes sweep me off my feet and enter my core. Every lyric, every word, every phrase quaked my mind. I was carried off to a distant land by his soothing voice. I stood there, listening, observing every dip and pause within the song. He was so skilled, like he had rehearsed it by himself for years. As I picked up the small details in his voice, I realized how lonely the song was. The sorrow in his voice made my heart crumble. I was surprised; the singing voice that my Professor controlled wasn't what I had expected it to sound like. It was like a waterfall of music cascading across my eardrums. The music softened to a close and his voice ceased to be, until he continued to hum the melody.

I opened my eyes and looked at my phone for the time: 5:16! I barged in his room with, "Hello!" He jumped slightly in his now quiet room. He glanced at his computer monitor, "You're late." He gave me a serious look.

I whispered teasingly, "Well, I didn't want to disturb your performance."

His eyes widened and his face flushed madly. He coughed, "Ahem! Well, you know how it is…I, uhm…thought I was alone" I grinned and asked if I could take a seat and he gestured to the chair in front of his desk. He moved his laptop away from in front of him, "So, I thought to break the tension we can play a little game." I stopped breathing. _Oh shit, what kind of game? Oh no…I wasn't prepared for this. Not yet. Literally! I haven't shaved in weeks!_

I swallowed the lump in my throat and squeaked, "What did you have in mind, Professor?"

He laced his fingers and placed both arms on the desk, leaning into me, "It will be a trivia game. For every question you get right I will tell you something about myself, and every one you get wrong, you will have to tell me something about yourself. The first couple of rounds can be trivial things like favorite color or food, and then we will reach for more depth! Sounds fun right? 'Cause I know that conventional question and answer can get pretty mind-numbing after a while. I know I'm bored of it, and you seem like the kind of student who needs a bit of stimulant to get the knowledge to place right in the noodle!" He let out a loud chuckle and I let out a sheepish giggle.

I nodded, "Yes! That does sound like fun! I can't wait! What is the first question?"

I cross my legs delicately to try to conceal the fact: inside I was a wreck. _What is he going to ask me to learn more about me? I really hope he doesn't bring up anything strange like my thoughts on him or his class._

He looked to his text book, "Aha! What is the principle of dualism?" _What? Is he serious? I am going to know everything about him within the first ten minutes of this._

I breathed in, "Dualism is the theory that mind and soul are two separate entities."

He smiled, "Yes, that's right…so what would you like to know about me?"

I searched my brain for the smallest thing I was curious about, "What is your favorite color?"

He pressed his glasses back onto his face, "Green; the color of the leaves in spring and the frogs in the jungle!" I laughed at the frogs and stared intently at him, preparing for the next question.

He flipped a page, "Whose theory was it to re-define free will instead of throwing away the idea of it all together?"

I paused for a moment and my insides started to freak out, "Uhm...I think it was Chisholm?"

He shook his head, "It was Stace. So, Mae…what is for favorite place to go when the weather is nice?"

I chortled, "On a cool autumn day I love to take a blanket to the park -or my back yard- and a canteen of nice hot apple cider, to read a book." He raised an eyebrow. _Not the typical answer for a twenty-year old Professor?_

He cleared his throat, "What book?"

I waved a finger at him, "Nope, only one question per wrong answer!" I mischievously poked my tongue out, without even knowing it exposing my tongue ring to my Professor. _Oh god, he saw it. The most sexual piercing I have._

He chuckled, flicking his eyes to the metal, and continued, "What is indeterminism?" _I really should have studied. _

I adjusted in my seat, sitting up straight, "Is it the thought that free will and determinism can coexist?"

He stared at me and shook his head, "Wrong again. It means that events have no cause; they are random, threatening the life of free will. Like your example in class with flipping a coin. What book are you currently reading?" _Oh shit, I said that in class? Now I remember…how did he remember that and I didn't? _

I smiled politely, "Right now, I am in the middle of two books, Nightmares and Dreamscapes by Stephan King, and Lolita by Nabokov."

He leaned back in his chair, running his hand through his hair, breathing in deeply, and grazing the arm of his chair gently, "Do you like Lolita? Don't you find it difficult?"

I re-adjusted my legs so that they are straight in front of me, "Yes I do, the subject is in my interest. The style is a bit difficult, yes, but I am trucking my way through it. It is amazingly addicting to read."

He gazes into me, his eyes consuming mine completely, I can taste the sexual tension as he sits straight up in his chair, "Yes, it is fascinating. The sheer fact of the age difference doesn't even faze him to make advances toward her. That fact alone might turn many people off to the concept." _Well…this is what our session is about, huh?_

I place my arm relaxed on the arm of the chair, leaning forward a bit, moving my left leg so it is bent, my left foot under my right leg, in a causal stance, "I find it intriguing; to be** that** determined to obtain anything like his desire to obtain her, it really is compelling."

He poised his fingers in a triangle and placed it before his face, "That is true" removing his fingers, placing them on the desk, fanning them out to reach the corners of his work pad, giving them all his attention, "We all have those strange desires, as humans; some that we might never fully understand ourselves." He slowly picks his head up and looks at me for a response.

_Oh dear god, just take me now! What are you waiting for? It seems we both want the same thing! _I smile nervously and look away for a moment, at his laptop resting to the side, then glance back at him still staring at me. _What do you want from me? Why am I even here?_ I can feel my cheeks begin to flush, so I look away at his laptop again, "Well…erm, yes that is true. We all have wants and needs. Like how we discussed in class, it is how you tell your wants and needs apart is the real test." I looked at him, and he was staring at me oddly now. Like he wanted to say something but was frozen within his words. My chest ached from the thumping in it.

I gave him a puzzled look but he just didn't budge. The heat between my thighs became unbearable and I straightened my legs out again to give him time to think of what he wanted to say. Without saying a word he spun around in his chair, got up, and walked over to the small window to the left of me. He peered outside for a moment, "You know…" I looked at his face, "…I'm starting to get the impression that you really need more help with my tutoring."

_**What**__ now?_

He looks at the trees outside and how the sun is quickly running away from the sky. He turned to me, "Yes…you are going to have to see me regularly from now on." _Okay Professor, if you say so! You don't have to convince me! _

But irritation suddenly provoked inside of me, I rutted my brow at him, "Why is that? Because I got two thirds of the questions you asked me wrong? That doesn't seem like justification."

He looked hurt by this and brought his attention back on the window, "If you don't want to then you are free to go whenever."

I leapt from my chair, "No! That's not it…" he snapped his head back to my direction, I shied away, scared by how shrill my voice was. I looked at the floor, playing with the sleeves of my cardigan, "…I just was wondering why you felt like I needed extra tutoring. I mean, I am good in class in all, I know I am sucky at basic memorization with names and stuff…and I guess with definitions too…now that I think about it I guess some extra tutoring would do me good, Professor Kelly."

I looked up at him with the utterance of his name and the sound of his name began to bring color to his cheeks, "I am glad to hear that. I really want you to understand these concepts." _Oh…is that it?_ Feeling a bit let down with his statement I slumped back into my chair. He pulled up a chair right in front of me, "This way it won't seem like the whole world is between us." _Good idea, just bring me closer to your beautiful body. _

I giggled sweetly, "Thank you Professor, the desk was getting a bit too much."

He placed his right calf on his left knee, crossing them, "Yeah, I know what you mean, Mae. Sometimes it seems a bit too professional…it is a tad uncomfortable." _That's interesting. Why would professional be uncomfortable with me?_

I grinned, "Why? Do many of your students come in for help?"

He adjusted his glasses, "No, no one. It's nice to have company in here. The beige gets pretty lonely." _He did say that when he was a kid he would rather be all alone or studying._

I looked at him with instant shock on my face, "No one? No one comes for help? Like questions or something?"

He scoffed, "Who needs to when you can e-mail me?" _That was the truth, ruling out face to face interaction since 1991._

As the afternoon died it became dark and conversations leapt out to one to the next. We really never got back to studying. I giggled uncontrollably, "So lemme get this straight, you drove right into a trashcan on the sidewalk?"

He was laughing so loudly I was afraid the walls were going to collapse, "Hahaha! Yes! Right in the middle! I have no idea how I got there, turns out that my axel was shot or something!" We remained frozen in laughter for a solid two minutes and then finally calmed down.

I checked my clock, which I realized I haven't done in a while: 7:10pm. _Holy balls!_ "Wow! Look at the time! It explains why I am so hungry!"

He looked at the clock anxiously, "Wow, 7:11 already? Time really does fly. I guess it is time to end our session for today. Next time we have to promise to actually get work done!" He laughed so hard his glasses slid off his nose and fell onto my bag on the floor. I watched as they fell and I quickly reached down to pick them up. I grasped them, raised my eyelevel to his, handed them out to him, and finally realizing what he looked like without them. His face wasn't the strict Professor I am used to during class; his eyes much kinder without the black frames, the slope of his nose gradually and gracefully dove down the middle of his face. He reached out to grab them and without thinking I lightly pulled them away from his grasp. I wished to look upon his face; to study it, without the obstruction of his glasses, _no matter how sexy they were._ He tried to focus on my face, I noticed him having some trouble getting my features down without his glasses. His eyes were in utter perfection now; sparkling blue, a dazzling shade of sky after a long rain. He once again tried to grab them from my hand, missing the glasses, and grasping my wrist instead. He held it there for thirty seconds, feeling my warmth and slowly crawling down to where his spectacles were held. I could feel him trace every inch of my wrist, over my thumb knuckle and gently pulling the glasses from my grasp, letting his index finger dance with mine for a moment. I let a slight whimper out from inside my throat as the spectacles were tugged away from my famished fingers. _I hope he didn't hear that._ He placed them elegantly on his face and I slowly withdrew my arm and hand from the air. I could already tell my expression of longing was still on my face from his interested reaction. He gave me a sultry grin, "The drawbacks of being blind." _Was his eyesight really that bad?_

I chuckled softly. We sat there, facing each other, not saying a word until I heard this buzzing. I searched the room for a yellow and black insect, but all I found was my Professor crease his forehead at my search. He looked away, listening to the noise, the light peculiar hum. He then looked over to his bag, which was moving and jumped on in. He rattled through it and discovered his phone was ringing. He glanced at the name, then back to me, "I'm sorry…I have to take this." I nod, smiling politely as he turns around to face the window, receiving the call, "Hello? Yes. Mmhm. I'm still in my office. I am with one of my students. Don't worry, everything is fine. Yes…okay…thank you, Leia. Okay. I'll be home within the half hour or so, just set a plate away for me. Okay, love you too…."

My heart sank instantaneously. My arms went numb and sank to the sides of my chair, I sat there completely broken. _How stupid was I? I should have known he had a girlfriend, one that makes him dinner and waits for him to get home; and I am sitting here waiting, from what I thought was a mutual attraction…for his tongue down my throat? How disgusting am I? Just because he isn't married doesn't mean that he doesn't have someone special in his life. He is intelligent enough and charming. _Without realizing it, tears began to well up in my eyes through my frustration. _He's gonna see me! _I pretended to yawn loudly, the tears rolled freely down my cheeks.

He hung up the phone and whipped his body to face me, "Heh, yeah sorry about…are you okay?" He cooed, approached me, and crouched in front of me, "What's the matter?"

I waved my hands in front of me, "No! Don't worry! I just yawned…really…" My voice cracked and through my own embarrassment the tears would not stop. _Can the world just swallow me up, right now?_ He cupped one of my hands in his sweetly and wiped the glistening droplets from my cheeks. My face lightly nuzzled his hand on my face and I closed my eyes. I shuddered softly against his hand; he slid it down my neck, placing it firmly on the back of my scapula, bringing me close to him. My wet face burrowed deep into his neck, my hand still in his; pressed up between our chests. _Why…can't…hic…I…stop…._

I sobbed into him and he pets my hair, "What is the matter? Hmm? What got you so upset?" He softly nudged into my ear. I breathed in all of his intoxicating aromas, drinking it in, inebriating my senses; each one tickling my nose, sliding down my throat, licking all the way into the core of my body. My sobs slowed into small spastic breaths, he let me from his body, the collar of his shirt damp from my sadness.

_Think a fabulous lie._

I looked away from his concerned eyes, "Uhm…hic…I…was just…yawning and my eyes got watery and you were so worried…I…just…hic." _Just keep going, don't mention his girlfriend. _I swiveled my gaze to his. His eyes were deep; with bewilderment, with anxiety, and magnificence.

He finally let go of my hand, "You needn't to worry. I know it is embarrassing to do things like this in front of somewhat a stranger, but I want you to know that you are no more a stranger to me than my own self."

I parted my lips a bit, wondering what to say, "What do you mean professor?"

He chuckled and sat back on his knees, looking up at me, "I think we both went through a lot tonight, and it is fair to say that we are no longer just Professor and student. What it is we are is up for fate to decide." He closed his eyes, slightly nodded, and stood up. A foot away from me, he extended a gentle hand to my shriveled body, I took it, and rose to my proper height. My breathing was steadier; releasing his giant hand, I picked up my bag and books.

I laughed lowly, "Thanks Professor. I guess I'll go home now…" I turned around and started walking to the doorway.

He stared at my form leaving, "Wait, Mae!" I flipped my body to face him, completely caught by surprise, "You can call me Luke when we are in my office…" _Luke? __**Luke? I can call him Luke? **_Flattered I batted my eyes and brushed a loose string of hair behind my ear, "…oh yes…by the way…Leia is my sister. My parents had a terrible sense of humor." He smirked, a twinkle in his eye. _His sister? He lives with his sister?_

I nodded cheerfully, "Okay…hehe…goodnight, Luke." His name poured out of my mouth like sweet fresh honey.

He watched me leave, "Goodnight Mae, drive safely! I will see you Monday."

I exited the room and scurried to the bathroom, my mind ablaze. I ran straight into the nearest stall. I couldn't stop thinking about his touch, his gentle graze. My hand instantly glided down to the top of my pants, I eased my hands into the denim trousers, my fingers rubbed gently at the top of the cloth that was restricting my throbbing arousal. I inched down to the damp fabric and inhaled sharply. The eager digits caressed the warm, sticky area and my toes curled in excitement. My back arched on the walls of the small cubicle and I started panting heavily. I fantasized about his body against me, his heart resonating with mine. My fingers were stroking harder and faster; gasping at every breath, until my body completely clenched. A surge of energy coursed through my veins; I closed my eyes, buckled forward and held in my breath. I stood there for a little while, my fingers tangled within me. I finally took in a breath. I opened my eyes and revealed my glistening fingers to myself. I rubbed the curious juices between my fingers, the seductive aroma filling the air.

_I'm genuinely fucked up._


	7. Chapter 7: Discussion and Daydreams

Chapter 7:

Discussion and Daydreams

When I stepped outside the cold air was the first thing that I noticed. It penetrated my lungs like a long-lost friend. I opened my bag and reached for my scarf, tied it around my neck, and put my headphones on for extra warmth. _I can't believe I cried into him._ _How was that even possible?_ Grinning wildly, I put my iPod on shuffle and I scrolled past the first few songs. I finally stopped on an upbeat Japanese Pop song and danced my way out onto campus. I wondered about many things: _What is my Prof…I mean…Luke having for dinner tonight? What are his living conditions? Does he have his own house? What does his car look like?_ All of these questions were buzzing in my head. I looked up at the stars as I crossed the campus quad. My feet hit the cement sidewalk and I felt oddly in tuned with nature; I gazed at the trees and felt their weight and connected the constellations with my mind.

Every whisper the wind trickled into my ear sounded inspirational. I sat down on a bench in the middle of the quad, the night keeping me company. I listened to some classical music to clear my head. Some students passed me by as the melodies in my ears waltzed with the branches in the breeze. _My hands_: _the hands that held his, that were held against his chest, that trembled so sweetly. _My hands felt cold and slightly obscene. The corners of my mouth rose slightly to express the love for my hands. I giggled, recalling my twisted emotions toward Luke. _It doesn't matter. I know what I want. If he is more than obliged to fulfill my needs, why should I turn him away?_ _It's strange calling my Professor, 'Luke'._ _I kinda like it though!_ I look at my phone and it is 7:45. _I should really head home, I guess. I do have a paper to write for Western Civilization._ I trek to my car in the cold and put my key in the door, unlocking it. I slid into my car and started the ignition. I caught my reflection for a moment, looking into the face I knew so well over these twenty long years. _Who knew it would be like this?_

I drove home, my brain riddled with thoughts of the future. _Who knows what might happen? Everything is up in the air by now_. When I get home I throw everything on the floor in my room, sit on my bed, and open my document. I begin to type, "_Do I like him just because he is attractive or do I like him because he is the first person to give me the slightest attention in years_?" I roll back onto my bed. _There really is no easy question to this; it could very well be a mix of both…what a dangerous combination._

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><p>Mae usually had a hard time falling asleep. She would stay awake for hours, crafting or writing; but now with this new found obsession her dreams and slumber come quickly to her tired eyes.<p>

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><p>I wake up on Monday after a long weekend of work. I feel overjoyed to finally get to see him again. I dress in a nice peasant top, with skinny jeans and an elastic belt to define my waist. I put more makeup on than usual, adding more eyeliner to the top of my lid, creating an alluring cat's eye. I lightly brush my full lashes with diva black mascara and blot my lips with coral lip stick, running a clear gloss over it. When I am satisfied with my enticing appearance I grab my books and go to my car. I open the door, shove my books in, put my key in the ignition, and I star…<em>hold on.<em> My car refuses to start. It makes a low rumbling noise when I turn my key. _Please, not now Tank Girl! You can make it!_

I try several more times to turn the engine but it just won't budge. I slam my fist into the steering wheel and scream at it. I take my key out and slump in the seat, hopeless and helpless. _I guess that's what I get for owning a car that is old enough to legally drink._ I checked my image in the mirror. _Everything was perfect!_ I sighed and looked at my cell phone: 1:28. _Class starts at two, so if I book it, I might be able to get there in time if I leave at 1:40 the latest._ I sat there wondering what he will wear today. _Maybe it will be the pin-striped black slacks with a brown button down shirt, or khaki pants with a hunter green long sleeved polo. _I pondered for three minutes and tried the car again, no luck. _I'll never get to know at this rate._

I pressed my forehead into the top of the steering wheel, then twisted my head toward the roof of my car; looking at the sky. It was a pale shade of blue, a thin overcast of clouds hanging loosely in the atmosphere.

_The sun hid away between the clouds, folding in and out from its own discretion…or was it the clouds that dictated when the sun shone its bright beams of light down upon the earth? It was so complicated, so complex, their relationship. Did the sun penetrate the unsuspecting clouds, drifting graciously in the sky? Did the clouds just appear to be the victim, grabbing at the sun, extinguishing its brilliant light from beneath its translucent blanket? Or did they work symbiotically; the sun resting its weary head among the accommodating clouds, happy to receive the energy the sun harvests to draw all the water from the atmosphere, into the cloud? _

Looking over at the time I realized three more minutes has passed, key to ignition, one quick turn and…nothing yet. Slouching back into my car I heave out a huge sigh. My car was so full of random stuff accumulated from the semesters of college. Tons of index cards from when I took German, a box containing a text book that I rented two semesters ago (still waiting to be mailed back) _I guess I could just sell it online at this point_, a couple of bags of trash, some bags of clothes to be donated…_Jeeze, if I take all this shit out then my gas mileage will be improved tenfold…, _at least five sweaters I dragged into my car when the weather proved to be warmer than T.V. told me, plus more shit.

One of the worst things about my car, avoiding the terrible brakes and acceleration speed, was the musky smell. I hated it; from my rear-view-mirror hung a rainbow of at least twenty assorted air freshener trees. Any clothes that had the misfortune to sit within my car for over thirty minutes acquired the awful funk. _I feel so horrible for the donation store to receive the clothes, which have been sitting in my car like two bags of various hacked body parts, clung to this horrid odor. _It smelled as if a million cigarettes have been endlessly burning for a decade, wrapped in fifteen towels soaked in spoiled milk to fester for twenty one years. The funny part was that it wasn't a strong smell; it was resilient. It was incessant. It lived through every scrub down, every deodorizer, every airing-out on a summer day. Nothing could rid my car of that stingy stink. It was an annoying after smell that lingered on everything it touched; even if a new person in my car didn't realize the smell, or if it had vanished one day, it would still be there; perpetually permeating in my nostrils.

_I guess that's how people are. One day they leave, but they are never really gone. You will always have those little things that exasperatingly remind you that their presence was once with yours. Whether you loved them or not, the mementos of their existence pops-up within everyday life. You can never escape someone once you experience them, even if they leave for the rest of your natural born life. It is the impossible contradiction of the world._

Turning my attention to the key in the ignition I give it a jerk. The engine gives out a coarse moan. _C'mon girl, you can do this!_ I turn it back, hand never leaving the key, poses still for a minute, and turns right one more time. My little box car cries and shudders. I slam my foot on the mat and snap the key out of the hole. Defeated, I flip out my phone to call my mechanic. I make an appointment for tomorrow and feel so pathetically useless. I kicked myself for not being there when he is expecting me. _I wonder if he even cares I'm not there_. I shake my head; reach for my bag, place my keys inside, and accidentally knock over my notebook, spilling out my papers. _Shit._

Quickly I gathered up all the loose papers, stopping to look at one of them. It was the yellow one that my Professor gave to me that day I met him in the hallway. I giggled softly, remembering that unadorned day. Looking at it more closely I noticed a drawing in the corner. My eyes widened as I realized what it was. _Oh fuck! I hope he did not see this._ The scribble in the corner was a mini cartooned self-portrait of me that had drool coming out of the corner of her mouth, her face flushed, eyes drawn into hypnotized curly Qs, and a speech bubble snaked out of the other side of her mouth, "_Omg! Pay attention to the subject! Not __**his **__subject_!" I could not believe I had not noticed this before. I covered my face with my arm in sheer self pity. _How do I draw these things and not even remember that I did it in the first place? He had that paper in his possession for over an hour and a half. _The most logical solution is that he saw it.

In a way now, I was happy to have the luxury of not attending class. He would think there was something wrong, and then he would chalk it up to something that he did…and that would just be a big ol' mess. Grimacing at the page, I slid it into my notebook with the rest of them and took it to my chest with my bag resting on the crease in my arm. I slam my door to my car, strut up to the front door, unlock it, and thrust all my shit on the kitchen table. I sit at the table assessing my situation. _I hope he doesn't talk about anything too complicated in class today._

I spent the rest of the day hesitating sending an e-mail to my Professor; I would type up either half or a whole e-mail, switch to another tab in my browser, and then eventually delete the e-mail. I must have done this at least four times.

_I'm crazy. Isn't this what crazies do?_ _He did say that I meant a lot to him, so wouldn't he be a least a bit distraught that I wasn't in his class? Well…I bet he isn't thinking like this. This is stupid. Why am I even doing this?_ I glanced at the time. _I would just be exiting my class with him now. I wonder if he even noticed I was gone…well of course he noticed. He had to have taken roll call; but did he care? Like really care that I wasn't there? _

I ultimately decide to watch T.V. and eat crackers as a snack, because, let's face it, watching T.V. is boring and my mouth needs something to do while my brain is slowly eroding away.

By the time some channel surfing and some meaningless show watching peaked my interest I found myself realizing how comfortable the couch was. The pillows were at the right angle, cradling my neck, and the air was a bit frigid so the fleece throw I had on kept me nice and toasty. I closed my eyes, slipping into my wonderful fantasy world: My Professor and I were eating at a restaurant, laughing together. The table we had was on a cobblestone patio in front of the building. The night air was sweet with a light coolness. He wore a light auburn pressed dress shirt, a dark charcoal blazer with a copper handkerchief peering out of the breast pocket, and trim chocolate brown slacks. His hair was smoothed down cleverly, eliciting his jaw line. I felt bewildered and yet strangely insignificant; like my style could never even dream to match his suave flair. I looked at the reflection on the marvelous window pane in the front of the restaurant. _Not bad._ I had on a retro brown and cream polka dot A-line dress, sheer ivory hosiery, two-inch copper shimmering heel, and my hair was pulled back with a golden barrette; a few pieces elegantly fallen around my face. I rested my hand on the base of the silver tall candleholder on the right side of the table. I looked up into his face, which was beaming down into mine as well. In this lighting he seemed so much more mysterious, calmer.

He appeared so much more relaxed now that we are out of a school setting. The only pressures that were in the atmosphere were the sweet melodies of the cellos and violas. All tension faded away in his glimmering eyes, flickering in the sweet moonlight and the shadows danced around his being like smooth clouds of darkness. I placed my napkin on my lap, and through observing this, he did the same. The waiter approached our table and asked what we wanted for drinks.

My Professor gestured his hand outward, "Just water for me." I shot him a curious look. _He could really have anything he wanted, but he chose water? I hope he isn't too self conscious._

The waiter faced me, "I'll have a diet coke, please." I nodded sweetly and my Professor sighed cutely.

He pressed his glasses to his face astutely, "What do you plan to have tonight?" I laughed and just now realized there was a menu before me. _Oh crap: the dilemma. I'll just be myself._ I picked the menu up and the cheapest entrée was eighteen dollars. _Shit, where are we? _I giggled a bit, adjusted one leg over the other under the table, accidentally grazing his leg in the process. I immediately shot up in my seat and lurched forward over my menu.

I pressed my face deep in its contents, "Oh! Sorry about that!" I cursed under my breath and slowly peeked up from my menu. Quizzically staring at me were my Professor's alluring eyes.

A playful smile curled on his face, "It's no bother. I was just wondering when you were going to do something unbearably adorable and look at it…" he glanced at his watch, "…only five minutes in our meal together." I drove my face back into my menu. _What did he just say to me?_

I picked out my meal, "I-I think I'll have the shrimp alfredo. H-how about you?"

He chuckled at my diversion, "I'm going to have the grilled salmon with grazed rice." I finally placed my barrier down, closing it slightly, but keeping my finger on the page where my selection was. My Professor looked at my finger, "Ah, so you're a pointer, eh?"

I looked at my digit, "Yeah, I guess. You know, it sounds strange out loud, but I like to rehearse my order to myself before I verbalize it to the waiter. I am so clumsy, you see, so I would stutter and totally ruin anything I was trying to convey."

He blushed oddly at this, "I can understand that. I am guilty of doing that myself on occasion."

I giggled, "Yeah, sometimes it is so hard for me to do even the littlest things; especially if I know I might fail, in front of people."

I turn my head to the umbrella to the side of our table and move my eyes to him. I put my hand to my arm without realizing it and my Professor tilted his head, "Oh? Are you cold? Here." He slowly moved his hands over each simple button, sensually removing his jacket from his being and handed it to me.

I put my hand up, waving it, "Haha no thanks, really…I'm okay!" He shook it in front of me, his face stern. The shoulder of his shirt barely letting his lightly muscular arm move any farther than it was now. His shirt was such a wonderful color on him. It brought out the smoky paleness that his skin possessed, which made him look a bit otherworldly. I smirked politely and grabbed the jacket lightly. I swung it over my shoulders, the handkerchief wildly thrown out of the pocket. _Shit! I wanted that to be as smooth as possible, good one._ I giggled awkwardly and picked the small copper cloth off the ground, handing it to him. He tugged it from my grasp and placed it in his shirt pocket. I placed my arms through the massive blazer and fastened the first shiny black button. I shrugged to him, "Thank you a lot Professor. It was a bit chilly out here and this blazer is really nice…" stretching my arms out so my fingertips graze the outside of the cuffs, "…haha a little big though, eh?"

He laughed kindly, "Yes a bit, lemme get that for you. Oh yes, didn't I request you call me Luke out of class?" He placed his hand on the oversized sleeve and rolled it a bit upward so that my hands actually stuck out of the holes as opposed to them being covered by the dark fabric. He proceeded to do the same for the other arm, "Better?"

He nodded at me and I nodded back with a delightful smile, "Thank you, L-Luke."

The waiter came back and gave us our drinks and took our order after some confusion on my part. I had lost my place in the menu and Luke thought it was the funniest thing. He giggled, "After all that work, you forgot what you wanted after all?"

I timidly breathed, "Yeah I guess so." I played with the bottom of my glass of soda and out of the corner of my eye I can see him trying to formulate a sentence.

He sighs, "I give up!" I shoot my head over to face him as he places his arms on the table, "You know? I just give up. It is so hard to form a simple sentence or formulate an idea to articulate when you are around me. For some strange reason my tongue doesn't remember how to function properly."

_Tongue? Oh, I'll show you how to use your tongue, my dear Luke. _

At the recognition of his words he blushed madly, "Oh no…I mean I can't form comprehensive ideas, not that I can't use my tongue…I mean…" He placed his hand to his forehead and looked away, "…oh lord…just shut up." He mumbled to himself under the cover of a strained laugh. I started to giggle uncontrollably. He looked up at my shaking body. A sudden wave of confidence shot through me.

I held out my hand to him, waving it in front of me, "Ohoh. You don't have to worry about that Luke…" I looked him dead into his eyes, locking his gaze to mine with a forceful stare, "…I assure you; I am very skilled at using my tongue. I know how to use it properly and dexterously. I can teach you."

Putting my arm back onto the table, I inched my feet over to his, slipping off my heel, and gliding my foot around one of his ankles. His body tensed up faintly and his eyes relaxed in contentment. He reached his hand over to my side of the table, taking the whole right side of my face into his massive paw. His left leg caught my foot and I transferred the interested appendage to his left leg while keeping the heel of it in contact with the right. I can feel the desire build up inside of me like a volcano of fervor. I softly nestle my face within his palm, closing my forlorn eyes. I open them again, onto his burning pools.

There was a glint of nervousness inside his eyes as he drew his face closer to mine he parted his lips longingly, "Educate me…"

The distance between us became shorter and the air tasted like sweet cherry tart. I inhaled sharply and turned my head a little into his hand. I awaited the one thing that I had been longing for. His lips, now quivering inches away from mine, were filled to the brim with thirst. Oh how I have wished for this moment. I gently closed my eyes, waiting for his tender skin to brush against mine.

"**Mae?"**

I fluttered my lids open, anticipating my Professor's face in front of mine, to find my sister's where his should be. "Mae, you're droolin' you know?"

I violently push her away and turn over to a pile of disgusting goop. _I don't remember the last time I have ever produced this much saliva in my sleep._ "Hey Mae! What? That wasn't funny! It actually hurt!" She punched me in the back and I rolled over quickly, sitting up to tackle her.

At that moment my mother stepped in the room, "Oh good, Mae…you're awake. For a second there it seemed like you never wanted to wake up, how peaceful you looked in all."

I shook my head, trying to get rid of the sluggish thoughts in my mind. I looked at the clock: 4:16.

I stared at my mom, confused, "What are you doing home so early?"

My mom smiled at me, crossed the room, and patted my head strangely, "The power went out at work, and we can't work without it, so I left!"

I was concerned at her carefree nature. She was always like that, though; so strange. I looked up at her, her hand now over my face from the quick adjustment, "So you just left? Did anyone else leave?"

She withdrew her hand, laughing, "Yes! I didn't just up and leave! Everyone left before me!" I wasn't sure what was weirder: her leaving abruptly or her staying in the dark while everyone is not there. _The latter. _I smirked at my sister who was blatantly as confused as I was.

My sister shrugged it off, "So…are you hungry Maple?" _God I hate that nickname…I guess anything is better than Mae-pole or Maebie."Maybe I'll take that one." "I don't know, Maebie you will, Maebie you won't!" Kill me. _I cringed a bit at the name and she giggled, thrilled that such a small word can prove to be the biggest annoyance.

I stood up, "Yeah, I have no idea Clare-inet." I thought it was clever she never thought so, a barrage of punches and kicks always followed my nicknames I had for her anyway.

"How many times do I have to tell you? That's stupid!" She scoffed and ruffled her bangs out of her face. I really couldn't care less. I felt no remorse for her from taking me out of my dreamland and from my Professor. _I was so fucking close! _I kicked her softly without warning or provocation. She looked at me baffled and laughed it off. I got up, rushed to the kitchen, and pulled open the food preserving doors. _Nothing that looks appetizing. _I check the freezer: _Hmm…I guess I could make chicken stir-fry with the frozen chicken breasts._

I take out the breasts and Clare rudely approaches me, "Whatcha makin'?" She pokes at the bag of frozen poultry and I give her a warning look. She backs off a bit and I go to the pantry to acquire some rice to begin the meal's base.

I boil a pot of water and I catch Clare in my peripheral vision. "What do you want?" I scream at her exasperated.

She looks at me, sort of hurt, "What do you mean? I was just wondering if you would make just enough to feed yourself or not." She looked away, slightly wounded.

I rolled my eyes, "If you wanted some, just ask." My calm voice soothed even my own ears and I could feel my pressure drop.

She nodded slowly, "Yes, I would like that if you could make enough stir-fry for the both of us. I can make the vegetable! What would you like?" _All these trivial questions all at once?_

I looked over at her, shrugging, "I dunno. Maybe broccoli?"

We were always close, as sisters. Whenever my mother was unfit to take care of one of us for the night the other picked up the slack. When my sister crept into my room, upon hearing my mother sobbing uncontrollably, I told her it was because of a nightmare; not because she had no idea how to feed us tomorrow. We were extremely poor at one point at our lives, until my newly appointed step-father regained my mother's pride and took care of the financial problems we had, we had to fend for ourselves. The weekends of riding our bikes to the laundry mat to make sure we had clean clothes for the week, or talking on the phone with our friends to make sure my mother thought we had social lives didn't make a dent in who we were as people. It shaped us, and made us stronger. I felt sad in knowing that death is somewhere we can't find ourselves holding hands to overcome it together.

I let the rice off the burner and let it fluff, with the lid on for twenty minutes, as usual. I regained consciousness from memory lane and poured a small amount of sesame oil into the wok. I placed the hard breasts into the piping hot core, breathing in their sizzling exterior. My sister sat at the kitchen table as her vegetable was in the microwave, slowly cooking itself. I skillfully flipped each chicken strip until I was sure it was wholly cooked, the rice was finished at this time and I poured the contents of the seemingly small pot of rice into the wok. The rice spread and reached the outside edge of the wok effortlessly. I maintained the corner of meat without rice contamination until I successfully diced up the strips into small bits and fed them into the cloud of rice. I added spices, vegetables, soy sauce, and eventually scrambled an egg into it. The rice was the most amazing and miraculous invention ever fashioned by my hands; in one light it was just some ingredients combined together, in the other hand it was a symphony of textures and flavors the coincided with such delicacy and expertise. I have no idea how many lonely nights I spent making this rice concoction for me and my sister.

It seemed like one of those things that became better with age and experience; _like some things…c'mon Mae! Stop thinking about him for two seconds! It won't kill you to focus on the task at hand than __**his**__ marvelous hands…_I drifted off into my memory of his hand touching my wrist; I could feel him grazing the surface of my skin softly.

I let the rice burn for a bit until I came back to Earth. Noticing my mistake, I mixed in a bit more peas to the meal to make sure that the rice singeing wasn't recorded as a slip-up. I wiped my brow, noticing an abundance of perspiration. I shook my head, trying to rid my head of images of him and how I needed to focus on my work. I soon finished the meal and plated my creation.

I sat at my place at the table with a satisfied smile. I gave Clare her plate of steamy stir-fry and plunged my fork into my mountainous meal. The only sounds coming from the kitchen were the forks hitting our plates and then the soft rumble from our mouths at work. Abruptly, the ear-splitting ding of the microwave resounded in our ears and I shot a look at my sister. She sat up, food spilling from her mouth, "Oh no! I forgot the broccoli!" I gawked at the particles of rice and meat dripping onto her plate. She forced her chair back, flung the microwave door open, and grabbed the piping hot Tupperware with her unexpectedly ignorant fingers. She dropped the plastic container on the counter, "Oh shit! That's fucking hot!" _Ms. State-the-Obvious_. She rolled her hoodie sleeves over her hands and, now carefully, hovered it over to a trivet on the table beside my glass. I swiveled backward to the silverware drawer and fumbled for a serving spoon. I grasped a long silver ladle and slammed it beside the searing broccoli fortress. In a couple of minutes, when our plates were barren, and not risking the slight embarrassment of going for seconds, Clare snapped the, now tepid, top off the container. Steam escaped like thousands of little white birds into the air. I watched, amazed, by the swirls and puffs the steam shaped. It seemed like such a small beautiful detail in life that is overlooked time and time again.

My sister dug the spoon into the core of the forest of broccoli and excavated a good half a cup full. She plopped these on her plate and went in for two more stalks. Half of the forest was gone; it seemed like in the blink of an eye. _Was she really that hungry? Did I not put enough on her plate initially? She should have told me she wanted more or she could have gotten it herself._ I stared intently at the gaping hole in the pool of green stems and Clare laughs, "You alright? You seem angry…I can put away a few of these if you wanted more."

I shook my head, "Nah, Clare-bear, it's okay. I just thought if you were still hungry there is still some left in the pan."

I gestured to the stove with a flick to the right, she nodded, "I didn't know! Yeah, I'll get more then." With this she rose from the table and put a scoopful on her plate. I looked at her, taking in all her features.

It was no mystery why she was so popular within her school; she was unconventionally beautiful. She had long chestnut hair, longer than it has ever been before, smoky blue eyes, cute diamond face, and an interesting air about her. She attracted all sorts of people to her: men, teenagers, out casts, jocks, thespians, lesbians, dirt bags, and any other person you can think of. She was a guilty pleasure to anyone who was woefully fascinated by her. She had a lot to learn about the world, mainly due to the fact she blissfully skipped though life like it were a dream.

Clare returned to the table and inhaled her plate of food. _It's not going to disappear; you can take your time._ She looked up at me, "Lemme do the clean-up. After all…you were the one to cook!" She picked my plate up and put away the dirty dishes, wiping down the stove where some rice escaped my pan. _This is a change. She usually darts right out after finished with her plate. I really hope this is permanent characteristic. _She pranced around the kitchen cleaning this and that, then fell back into her chair, which I just noticed was at the head of the table. She laced her fingers and looked seriously at me, "I have a problem, Mae". _I should have known, here she goes asking for something._

I gesture toward her to finish her statement; I am listening attentively as she rattles off, "I'm crushing on a guy who totally doesn't even know I exist!" _She's in the same boat as me for once_. She looked away, entranced in the tiles on the floor, "It's strange, because usually I have no trouble getting a guy to like me…" _Must be nice_ "…but this guy seems to not even know who I am!" _That's a difficult feat to know who the "Secret Queen of Lyon High" is. Maybe he's new? Or gay._ She looked so broken, it was strange but I sort of felt a leap of joy inside my chest. As she described how painful it was that she "dressed extra cute" one day and how he didn't even say "hi" to her, I felt nauseated. _Was __**I**__ like this at her age?_ I couldn't help feeling cheated, like somehow the balance of the universe was finally restored and her entire frustration rests on her outfits.

The anger festered inside of me, bubbling and corroding my insides until I couldn't take her childish drivel, "Oh yeah? Is that really what you call pain?" Clare froze and tears of frustration stung my eyes, "I've had enough of this. You are crying to me because for once in your life something doesn't go your way." She tries to come back with a useless counter-argument and I raised my palm at her in rejection to her objection, "No, don't even try reasoning with me! Just listen!" Clare was breathing heavily, anticipating my argument. I tried to slow my breathing and calmly continued, "My Clare, I know life can be tough and unfair, -trust me I know-, but you just have to make him notice you." I looked shyly away onto my place mat in front of me and I could feel a spark of intrigue in her eyes but I was unrelenting, "You have to pursue him, whether you blatantly display your affections or constantly poke and prod him until he has to speak to you, you have to remain vigilant, my baby sister." I sincerely looked up at her, but I was shocked at what I saw.

Staring down at me were a pair of huge knowledge hungry eyes and an evil grin like no other, "So…who is failing to notice you, Mae?" _Shit, I should have just kept my mouth shut like every other time Clare whines to me about something insignificant; I guess she can't help it. She's only a teenager after all._

After that moment my stomach had never felt so tied in knots and the lump in my throat reduced my speech to unnatural and indistinguishable gargles. I coughed to try to alleviate the swollen protrusion disabling my dialogue. When that failed to clear it, I downed the rest of my water. _What should I tell her? The truth would be best._ I took in a deep breath, "I might have a small crush on one of my professors." Before I could force out another word my sister already blurted out about fifty words that all ended in question marks. I puckered my face and turned my head.

Her face immediately lit up and she repeated the question, "So what is he like? Who else knows about it? I bet Charlotte knows."

I sighed deeply, "He's really smart, and he's my Philosophy Professor. I really love the way he talks; he's always so passionate and interesting. He's about forty, I'm guessing."

She shrieks at the excitement, "Oh Mae! I never thought you were into _those_ kinds of guys."

I shot her a look, "What do you mean?"

She giggled, "Oh, it's probably nothing. Does he have a ring on his finger?" I shook my head and she bounced lightly in her chair.

I got up abruptly, "I have a lot of work to do, and if you have any advice that is worthwhile then you know where I'll be."

She whined softly, "Aw! I wanted to know more about your sexy sensei!"

I chuckled, "Maybe one day I'll bring you to my school." _Highly unlikely._

I turned my body, grabbed my textbooks from the table, and as soon as I started to go up the stairs to my room I heard Clare's voice echo to me, "Just be sure to be careful. Older men, I hear, can be very tricky! You must be prepared for anything!"

_Anything?_


	8. Chapter 8: Rain

Chapter 8:

_Rain_

Tuesday was lackluster and a burden to even exist, but Wednesday morning was frightfully fast. I picked my car up from the shop yesterday and it turns out that my belts were worn out. I was confident in my car today, though. I dressed accordingly to the weather, which was rain –and lots of it. I wore cute black and white houndsooth rain boots, black jeans, a long black trench coat with yellow blouse peeking from underneath. My makeup was subtle but defiantly there, I didn't overdo it just in case it made my physical age seem to regress. My umbrella was safely tucked in my car; it was cream colored with brown polka dots on it, which was endearing. I always hated driving in the rain, and driving in general. I hate having the responsibility of my life and other people's lives hanging in the balance –it's so much pressure. None of that mattered right now; all that mattered was getting to class and seeing my Professor.

* * *

><p>Mae wasn't normally interested in dressing herself to the modern day fashion, but working in retail opened her eyes to the powerful persuasion of a well coordinated outfit. She seemed to make more friends and acquaintances when she dressed to impress; although she did not intend to interest anyone specifically, of course.<p>

* * *

><p>Traffic, of course, was a bitch…and so was parking. I finally stole a spot and shuffled madly to my class. I entered the room, which was filled with about five other people and I waited. I waited patiently like a lion patiently watches a zebra. I carefully plucked my soaking coat off and hung it behind my chair. I also placed my umbrella by the window on the right, slightly ajar, to make sure it dries properly. I was walking back to my seat when I looked at the doorway to the class, and I could have sworn I saw my Professor dart past the classroom. <em>Why would he do that? Doesn't he know where the class is?<em> I chuckled and located my seat; I continued to wait. Checking the time, I noticed the class should have started five minutes ago. _Maybe he isn't coming. I wasted all that time this morning getting ready for noth…_That was when he finally paced into the classroom, swinging his shoulder bag onto the table, and then spinning around to face the classroom. _Holy fuck! Is he joking? _

From his head down to his knees, skipping his mid-calves, and onto the bottoms of his pants were completely drenched in rain water. I never thought that my eyes could expand as far as they did without popping clean out of their sockets. I must have looked him up and down, all over his body about thirty times; not even caring if he caught me. Immediately I could feel warmth rising from between my thighs as I examined every inch of his wet body. I was certain he was going to give me a heart attack. Someone in the back of the class yelled, "What's the matter, Teach.? Forget your umbrella?"

My Professor sneered, "Yes, well…an umbrella loses its function when it is turned inside out upon stepping out of my car."

The whole class tittered a bit, me including. The light orange button down he was wearing was almost completely transparent, and I used this opportunity to trace every curvature of his chest with my eyes. My pupils were constantly sculpting into his body, enjoying the wondrous rollercoaster of peaks and valleys between his pectorals, teasing the outline of his supple erect nipples, easing over his deltoid, crashing onto his biceps and his elegant brachioradialis. His muscles -and I bet the bones beneath them, were divine to gaze upon. All humility was thrown out the window at this point. I licked my lips seductively after I was done sizing up my Professor, looking him straight in the eye. I could have sworn I heard him swallow, hard.

_That's right Professor. You have no idea what you have brought upon yourself._

I spent the rest of the time during class, taking notes here and there, but mainly trying to seem as turned on as I actually was. I gave the backside of my pen constant attention; it lay between my teeth, my tongue flicking onto it ever so often. I would also lean forward in my seat, crossing my legs very slowly, presenting my cleavage for my Professor's eyes to feast upon. I caught him several times looking at my eyes, then flicking them down to my chest, closing them suddenly, and fumbling his speech. _Do I make you quake, Professor?_ I grasped my hair softly, feeling the textures between my fingers, as my thumb explored the rounded edge of the back of my pen. I grinned at him as much as I could, which made him clear his throat more than usual. The yearning between my legs was almost excruciating; the constant throbbing heightened all of my senses. I drank in all of his pauses, inflections in his voice, smell of his body, and every move he made until I was drunk with avarice. I wanted him all for myself; I wanted to take him in front of all my classmates, to mark my territory like a savage beast.

He seemed curious by my enticing actions. He would adjust himself quite frequently; straightening his belt (bringing my attention to his crotch), tugging at his saturated shirt (attention to his stomac-crotch, wris-crotch, hip-crotch…etc), and he would thread his fingers through his sopping hair. This was not his normal quick fondling; it was much smoother, much more precise than usual. _What was different about it?_ I studied his arm and fingers as they danced throughout his mane; it was his chest and face that was different. When he would brush his fingertips against his scalp he would now breathe in slowly, as if anticipating a wave of relaxation, his chest heaving outwards. He would also tip his head back slightly and the ends of his lips would curl upwards, closing his eyes in rapture. I held my breath as well, and upon exhaling he opens his eyes gradually. I pant softly at his performance and through the corner of his eye I can see him peering at me, still grinning. _Oh you naughty man._ I lowered my eyelids at him, looking at him through my eyelashes, giving his own sexy smile back to him.

This lascivious battle continued throughout the remainder of the class. I could hardly concentrate on anything but him. When the class finally ended, I waited in my chair for everyone else to leave; pretending to put papers away. I found it extremely difficult to stand up due to my lady erection. I sauntered over to him, "Hey Professor."

He turned to me, grinning wildly, "Yes, Mae?" He sticks his hands in his pockets _the hands that should be all over my body._

I looked desperately into his eyes, "I was wondering if you have an extra copy of the notes from last class. You see I wasn't…"

He frowned a bit, "Yes I know. You weren't here. Why were you absent from my class, I wonder." _I wasn't being a bad girl if that's what you're assuming._

I giggled tenderly, "My car has been giving me troubles."

He smiled, "Ah. And all this time I was wondering if it was something I did, because of the last time we met you seemed so upset over something. I hoped that I was not the cause."

I quickly ran my fingers through my hair, "Oh, that. No, it wasn't anything you did. Sometimes when I yawn my eyes water up and you just…seemed…so concerned. I guess I just lost control." _I'm losing control right now._

He was relieved at this, "That's good. At least I didn't hurt you. Embarrassment is a strong feeling. It controls us and tells us what not to do, out of fear."

Feeling my face already getting warm I smirked kindly, "You're right. But sometimes it is worth it to take that chance." He slid his hands out of his pockets and onto his bag in front of him, searching for the zippers to open it. Out of apprehension he can't seem to locate where they are. I walk toward the table, across from him, felt the bag and skimmed the edge of the zipper track with a skillful finger. I glanced over at him through the corner of my eye and caught a glimpse of him entranced by the fluidity of my digits. I found the zipper and I carefully pull back the metal to reveal a green folder. I wanted more than anything to shove that bag and the table out of the way from between us, grab his damp shirt, and bring him close to me; I craved his simple singeing touch. He turned toward the bag and drew out the bright jade folder. I fixated on his fingers, which were slightly quivering. _I guess he has to be cold, even though the heat was on in the classroom._ Then I saw it; a brief flash in the man's eyes that were before me, whom I thought were firm and confident, were now nervous. I assessed his actions; the fumbling of papers between the two hard covers of emerald, his shrunken down stance backed up against the chalkboard. He seemed so relaxed and aloof just a minute ago, now it seems as though he is shaken. _I didn't realize that I affect you __**that**__ much my dear Professor. _He was a totally different person, now that he is focusing on retrieving the note page for me. I sniggered to myself, ravishing at his anxiety; the humbleness if his actions enkindled me, strangely.

He located the sheet and handed it to me; I plucked it delicately from his grasp. His fingers curled adoringly when the paper slipped away from them. My Professor parted his lips, as if he were to speak, but could not find the right words. I grinned into him, "Thank you, kindly, Professor. I don't know how to thank you enough for everything you have done for me." _No really, you have single handedly given me enough sexual fodder to comfort me for weeks! Not to mention I would seriously do __**anything**__ for you. Oh god, please just be on the same brain waves as I am for once. I am practically throwing myself at you! _

Instantly his face flashed pink and he cleared his throat, "Is that so?"

I nodded sincerely. He then gave me a delighted smile, placed the folder back in his bag, and crossed the room to retrieve my umbrella. I placed the paper inside my bag as well. He picked it up sweetly, "Is this adorable thing yours?"

My voice fluttered modestly, "Yes, it is. How did you know?"

He walked back to me until his feet were about ten inches away from mine, stopped, and handed the umbrella over to me, "I figured that was you…" He looked away at a desk, color deepening within his face, "…I saw this umbrella the other day, bobbing through the crowd on campus. I noticed how interesting it was and wanted to spot who the person was implementing such an unusual umbrella. I couldn't catch the face but I also took note of the bright red bag that was attached to the person's arm…and then I guess I put two and two together." He regained my eye contact once more and I could feel the tension grow deeper with every second. I looked over to my desk, my red and white polka dot bag resting on top of the desk. He laughed a bit, "It's silly, I know, but to answer your previous statement: the only thing that I want to do right now is walk you to class."

I couldn't help it, a small bit of air escaped from my lungs, out from my softly poised lips. He shuffled a bit, "I found myself watching you sometimes trek out of class and up that long hill to your class alone. I can't help feeling lonely myself." _You are never alone, not with me thinking about you._

I quickly nodded my head and laughed eagerly, "That sounds wonderful! I always enjoy your company."

He peered at me, insecurity written all over him like the marquee to a theatre, "You do?" He chuckled skeptically, "I never thought I would hear that from you, maybe from my sister, on a good day; never from you."

My eyebrows pinched together, trying to understand fully what he had said to me. _Why would it matter if __**I**__ said it? Would he not be as doubting if someone else was to say that? _I stared at him, sadness welling up within me like a great flood. _He really thinks this? He watches me hurry off to class, thinking that I am lonely? He has no fucking clue. _

He grabbed his wet wind breaker, "Now we should be going, you told me last week that your class starts in ten minutes, right? I wouldn't want you to be late." I didn't budge. I was still mesmerized about what he told me. He gave me an odd look, "What's wrong? I'm sorry, did I overstep my bounds? You look rather astonished."

I snapped back to reality and swept my hand over my cheek, feeling the warmth, "Oh no! Not at all! I was just thinking about what you said. I would never, in a million years, think that you feel that way." Confidence spilled over me like hot caramel, "To be honest" words rolled off my tongue, "Nothing you can do would overstep your bounds."

I turned around, to my books and shut my eyes, hoping that I would die, that way it could end in my mortification of what words I just vomited. I started to walk forward to retrieve my bag, my whole being shaking. I balled my left hand into a tight fist; I was annoyed that I just let something slip out like that, beyond all of my barriers.

Just when I took the first step I felt something clasp my right forearm. It tightly encased my arm within its clutch. I heard his voice whisper, "Wait." My eyes snapped open and I twisted my head over to him, then moving my whole body, I faced him once more. I could already feel my stomach sinking and my nerves trembling. His face, his expression: sheer awe.

My Professor looked hard into me, as if trying to find the answer to a lifelong issue. I stood there, flipped my gaze to the floor next to me, peering over to his hand wrapped around my arm, my voice cracked terribly, "Yes?" I raised my head to his face, melancholy reflected off of mine into his. He, just detecting that his hand was still holding my arm, released it, slightly bewildered he made that action in the first place.

He shook his head and sighed, "Nothing. I just thought…well…it isn't important."

I creased my brow at him, slightly bothered, "What is it?" I softly muttered, "It's important to me. Whatever you think is important."

He chuckled, "Yeah? That's encouraging. I guess I was wondering what you meant by that last comment, before you turned around."

My heart sped up so fast that I thought it would jackhammer out of my chest onto the tiled classroom floor. I cleared my throat, "I guess I feel as though we are closer than we lead on. I was afraid that we were going to digress back into nothing special."

He placed his hand on his chin, stroking the side of his jawbone gently, "I believe so too." My eyes widened, he whispered, "You don't have to worry about that. You are very unique to me." His hand left his face, reached over to me, and brushed my hair to tuck it behind my ear. I leaned into his hand, so smooth and warm. I was so happy, so overjoyed at this unbelievable conversation. I would have never expected he would think this way as well. Whether he thinks exactly as I feel, is up for the future to decide.

I could feel my eyes stinging as I grabbed my bag and books. _How beautiful, his words that he had chosen…just for me._ He slung his bag around himself and gestured at the door; I giggled and grabbed my umbrella by the hook. _Was this all over my umbrella? Had he really noticed my existence that superbly?_ I looked at the object between my fingers and palm; _such a small thing. _I looked up at him, "Ready?" He nodded and we both walked to the door. He reached in front of me, making the best effort to try to open the door for me, sliding past the right of me and gripping the handle. His arm grazed my side and I welcomed the touch, even though his sleeve was still a bit damp. He flung open the door, and with stepping out into the hallway it contorted my identity ever so softly; I let him open the door for me…all I did was walk through.

We walked side by side the whole way to my building. I was so self conscious about the hill. I tried not to speak, and let him do all the talking; which is hard because he asks my opinion every other sentence. I asked him to explain some hard subjects to me, lengthening my time to actually breathe than to huff and puff my way through a coherent idea. Halfway up the hill someone I kind of knew stopped us. It was a girl from my drawing class who asked me what the homework was. I told her and then I looked straight at my Professor. He smiled, "So you're an artist? I can see your various doodles during class when you flip the pages of your notebook."

I blushed madly, "Oh! Uhm…I'm really not an "artist" per se. I like to draw and doodle, none of my "art" is really anything good."

He gave me a puppy frown, "Oh really? You seem plenty skilled to me."

And that's when it hit me…_my drawing on the paper he gave back to me._ I swallowed hard, "What have you seen me draw? I try to refrain from doodling during your class. I usually only doodle when it is hard for me to pay attention to the subject."

He slowed his pace a bit, his eyes focused on to the road in front of him. I could tell he was thinking about what to say. His lips puckered outwards, prolonging his speech. He was procrastinating. _Does he not want to tell me what he saw? Is he embarrassed? Hopefully he couldn't even read my shitty penmanship anyway. _My Professor adjusted his bag a bit; trying to keep up with my normal pace since his was a bit delayed. I giggled to myself, _am I making him uncomfortable? Now __**that's**__ too damn funny. _ We shuffled along until I heard him cough lowly.

I looked over at him and he laughed, "Well…I happened upon one of your drawings once and I found it quite funny. It took me a while to figure out what it said." He laughed loudly and I giggled insecurely back. _Oh fuck, I'm in deep shit._

I nodded, "Yeah, my handwriting is terrible. I am so glad all of your assignments are typed only. I would receive an F for sure!"

He stopped walking.

I took two more steps and slowly turned my head and then my body towards him. He just looked at me. Standing there; just staring at me. _What happened? Did I do something?_

He smiled politely, "Excuse me for being forward…" _Gulp_ "…but what were you referring to in your drawing?" _God he has no tact. _

I chuckled nervously, my voice quaking, "Uhh…which drawing are you referring to?"

His voice was full of wonder, "The one on the yellow paper you dropped that day?"

I chuckled, "Oh…that one…" _Lie fabulously. _"…it was an inside joke between my friend and me. She laughed so hard at it she nearly coughed up her lung! Why? What did you think it was about?" _That's right my dear Professor, the tables have turned. _He looked humble, playing with the strap on his bag_; I could just eat him up!_

He blinked fast, his eyes wide, "Oh! Uhm, nothing. It's nothing…" _Don't have enough courage to call my bluff?_ "…hopefully in time you can tell me the truth."

His meek posture faded into an intrepid stance. An audacious grin twirled onto his face.

I played dumb, "What do you mean? I am telling the truth." I coyly tilted my head to the side.

He just stared at me, the impertinent grin deepening on his scintillating face; staring into me, staring straight through my little lies.

My playful eyes began to turn cold, my innards tumbling into the ground. I suddenly felt a shock of panic spread throughout my body. My Professor walked forward, looming over me. His gaze was severe and body unwavering. I felt like I was being examined, studied underneath a microscope for further inspection. His eyes searched my stagnant face. _I can't let him in. I can't show him how I am trembling inside._

I lowered my eyelids at him, peering through my eyelashes, and whispered, "What are you looking for?"

He took a half step backward, to create some space, "You usually display your emotions regularly. I am finding it difficult to read you." _Blunt as usual._

My voice cracked softly, "Yes, but I can conceal what I don't want to be found."

He shook his head, "You let more slip than you think. Or is it because you want it to slip; to let a small insight in, only to shut it out? It is very mysterious Mae."

I hummed, "Mysterious Mae? I like that."

I grinned seductively, asserting my control over the situation. I stepped forward, back into my position in front of him. I shyly smiled and looked into his eyes. These eyes whom I see searching the class for answers, whom appear to be shallow and yet deeper than the deepest chasms in the sea. They seemed to be like an illusion; the blue hue shimmering on top of a flood of silver and green. It was like a paradise in which each person searches to find in their life, only to find it when they cannot obtain it.

My trance was shattered by a droplet that crashed on to my cheek. I blinked, coming back to reality. I looked skywards, "Looks like it's started to rain again, we should get moving." I turned to the direction in which we had to journey. I looked back at him; he was still staring at me. I smiled, "Don't you think we should move so we don't get caught in the rain?"

He blinked slowly, "Yes, that would be best, wouldn't it?" He and I both adjusted our gear and started walking again. The whole way back I couldn't stop smiling. _What was he so fixated on?_ We chit chatted about our funny experiences in the rain. He told me that once he was caught in the rain with his mother and she wouldn't let him in the house until he was dry, which was unnecessary because she would enter the house when she was soaking. He had to wait outside in the freezing rain for his mother to change her clothes and get him a towel.

I laughed, "Wow! That sounds so horrible!" We both appeared before the doors to the building my class was in. He grasped the handle and opened the door for me. I curtsied and stepped through, approaching another door and opening it for him. He pretended to tilt his imaginary hat at me and I giggled. He explained to me that his mother was the kind of woman who took orders from no one and always thought of the best for everyone, excluding her youngest son; my Professor. He was the one who took the brunt of all of her stresses, and he was perfectly content with it. He realized that is what he had to do for her at such a young age when his sister wouldn't cooperate to his mother's ideas for her, and when his older brother moved away. I learned a lot about him today, and I was grateful. He doesn't seem like the kind of person to just blab that kind of information to anyone. I was honored that he chose me to confide in; me a young girl half his age.

We approached my class and I could already see Charlotte's curious face. _How is the class not started yet? I am already seven minutes late._ We stood by the wall next to the doorframe to my classroom. I smiled, "I guess this is when we part ways. I can't thank you enough for walking me to class. I just really hope you don't get trapped in the rain again."

He laughed, "Don't worry about me. I parked over here today so it is no biggie. I was happy to have your company, even if it was just for a short while."

I stepped backwards, "Thank you Professor."

He combed his hair with his fingers, smoothly, "Mae, remember: don't be late tomorrow. I mean it." His face transformed from being soft and cheerful to hard and ruthless.

I let out a little gasp at this, my voice tried to be carefree but creaked with fright, "I won't, Professor." In an instant he smiled so lightly. I spun around and into my class, secured my seat and watched him sadly as he waved goodbye.


	9. Chapter 9: Coffee and Kindness

Chapter 9:

Coffee and Kindness

I tried as hard as I could to advert my gaze from Charlotte. I didn't want the third degree from her of all people. I wasn't sure if I wanted her to know what had transpired between my Professor and me. It was like a special treat that I devoured in the dark by myself. Soon enough, before she could utter a single word to me, our professor hurried into the room. I had never felt more relieved to see another professor that wasn't Professor Kelly. Our class breezed by, and sure enough, Charlotte's barrage of questions pummeled me in the face. I cut her off, "Just one thing, please. Please do not judge me." At this point she squealed and pleaded me to spill the beans. I told her only that he wished to walk me to class, about the umbrella, and how attractive he was soaking wet during class.

She swooned, "I bet you would have loved to caress his glistening body!" She pretended to fall into my arms and I to hers, panting wildly. We giggled up a storm. Nothing would have pleased me more to touch him softly. She gave me a sultry look, "So what is taking you so long? Just grab him and bring him towards you! Let nature take its course, your actions will do the talking!" Charlotte grabbed at my shirt, yanking me to crash into her body. I laughed and caressed her face mockingly. She winked at me, released me, and as we walked down the stairs and out the door I had this sinking feeling. _Could I, perhaps, be way over my head? Am I ready for something like this? _Charlotte clasped my hand into hers, stopping our stride. She kissed my knuckles lightly, "Don't worry about anything, my darling. I will always be here for you no matter what."

I blushed hard, "Oh! Uhm…t-thank you, dear." Her soft lips' warmth were still lingering on my skin; forever branding that knuckle as hers.

She was so sincere, so sweet. It hurt me to be talking like this to her, especially when I know how much she cares for me. She is currently in a relationship that she is not sure if it would benefit her to stay in. It is her choice to stay, and she chooses to stay time and time again. She has never actually told me that she was unhappy in her relationship, she just isn't sure if she wants to be so committed right now, at such an early time in her life. I understood what she thinks; it makes perfect sense in her case. I always have this overbearing chain of guilt whenever she shows affection towards me. I know that she isn't outwardly cheating on her boyfriend but it makes me wonder of how she shows regular friendliness. I know for sure that she is a touchy feely kind of person, so it would make sense for her to behave this way. I can't help but notice a certain contentment she radiates when she is with me, that she lacks when she spends time with her boyfriend. I noticed this one day when we were all eating at a diner. She had an easier time explaining her feelings toward a subject to me than to him; when her boyfriend left to use the bathroom Charlotte told me a hilarious story. When he came back, she had a hard time choosing her words…like it were the first time telling the story. It was odd to watch her try to search for the idea that she clearly illustrated to me not even a minute ago.

We walked along the path to the parking lot, I was walking backwards tripping over little pot holes that Charlotte failed to warn me ahead of time. She continued to tease me about my Professor and I passively played along with; my umbrella scraping the ground as I waddled backwards in front of her. I suddenly drifted off into another world, _Could I be rationalizing something too crazy to exist? I really doubt he feels anything for me; it is safer this way to keep things like this to myself and try not to leak any emotion. It is going to be incredibly hard, but I must try my best. _

"Mae! Hey! Are you still with me?" Charlotte puffed her cheeks out at me, frustrated that I was zoning out, "Jeeze, you should get an astronaut suit or at least the helmet, 'cause you are one huge space cadet!" She laughed and spread her arms wide, like a plane and zoomed around, teasing me. I joined her for a bit then almost doubled over in laughter. I always have so much fun with her; the whole world seems to melt away. We both regained our composure and sighed in delight. I looked at her, she looked at me and she whispered, "Why can't life be easy like how we are together?" I shrugged, still out of breath.

She smiled at me, closed her eyes, and opened them on something peculiar; her face tensed up and pupils dilated. I couldn't tell if she was struck by fear or bewilderment. I noticed we were out in the middle of the street, and for fear of getting struck by a car I literally jumped out of the middle and ran to the sidewalk. She gave me a queer flick of her eyes and head check to the object of her possession. Sure enough, my Professor was walking nonchalantly, in our direction. Charlotte smiled mischievously, "Do you want me to flag him down?"

I ran back over to her side, frantically and mouthed at her, "NO!"

Without a hitch she signaled her hand toward him, "Hey Professor!" My hand covered my forehead in embarrassment as she wildly attracted my Professor's attention. I was way too humiliated to even look at him as I heard his quickening foot falls inching closer to us. _I thought he parked by the building behind me. Why is he walking toward his car now?_ I unwillingly turned to his direction, and smiled as sweetly as I could muster through the deafening ache of my heartbeat.

I shot my friend a quick, angry glance and breathed, "Hey there. How are you?" Immediately, I noticed his change of clothes; where his damp coral shirt was, a grey polo took its place, underneath a dry black suit jacket. His khakis were now stunning black denim jeans. He waved at me in a friendly excited manner, like a puppy welcoming its returning master. _Master huh? I never thought I could pull of being __**his**__ master…c'mon Mae! Focus! _ I giggled as if remembering a joke and Charlotte raised the right side of her lips at me.

He adjusted his bag a bit and scuttled in front of us, "I am doing alright. What are you two up to?"

Charlotte shook her head wildly, "How can I be so rude? I never introduced myself to you before! I am Charlotte, Mae's girlfriend." He quickly smiled and shot a curious glance my way. His adorable smile sparked into a sensual grin.

I jumped almost all the way in front of her, blocking her hand from extending toward him, "Not like that! We aren't a couple! She's just being weird. Haha, i-it's a joke!"

I backed away cautiously to her side again and Charlotte reaffirmed, "No, we are not together. For the time being." Mouth agape, I glared at her, hard. She stuck her tongue at me and reached her hand out once more, it met his, and they shook hands. She looked into his eyes, "Wow! That's a nice grip! Professor…." _You already know his name you idiot. _

He beamed warmly, "Professor Kelly! Thank you, my mother taught me well. I can say the same for you as well. You are among the few women to reciprocate the same strength within a handshake!" I could feel her grin; I knew Charlotte thought of me in that instant. They parted and I looked at the ground, then at her, awkwardly.

Charlotte thrives on these sorts of situations that I lack in finesse in, "So! I noticed you didn't get caught in the rain, even though you are missing an umbrella? Do you run that fast, Professor Kelly?"

She teasingly giggled and he smiled, "After exiting the English building I realized that I had some emergency dry clothes in my office." _Good to know Professor._

She snickered, "Emergency? Well, I guess you never know. You don't want to get sick."

I nodded, "Yeah, I always have a set of clothes in my trunk just in case."

He held his hands up, palms outward, "See? Not that strange!" I laughed and she nodded skeptically. I drew a circle in the ground with the toe of my shoe and looked at my goofy Professor,_ my_ wonderful Professor. He slipped his fingers through his hair and chuckled.

Charlotte turned to me swiftly, winked and smiled at my Professor, "What are you doing now?"

He stopped twisting his fingers, frozen in a strange trance, "Oh uhm, nothing really. I was just going to go home and feed my ca-" He blushed, "I-I mean, watch the game!" His last words were actually shouted at us and I could feel his nervousness. His eyes dimmed in disappointment, embarrassed for his own masculinity.

Charlotte playfully giggled, "Oh really? You wouldn't want to come with us? We are going to a small Café down the street from the school. It usually has an awesome live performer and yummy coffee!"

Still trying to regain his dignity, "Oh, is that so? That actually sounds good. Do you mind if I join you?" His eyes immediately search my face for an answer, completely ignoring Charlotte's existence; even though she was the one who asked him the question. I stood stupefied at her inquiry and nodded numbly; like a deer in headlights I followed the faint glow.

I walked to his side; and her to his. She kept him busy with all sorts of questions, most of which I already knew the answer to; feeding my ego of knowledge pertaining to my Professor…my sweet Professor. Now and again I would put my two cents in, only to withdraw back onto the sidelines, completely content with listening to the silly banter they were thoroughly engaged in. Charlotte tried to drag me back into the conversation as much as possible, trying to ask my opinion on something. I would push to sense how my Professor felt on the subject by his tone of voice and try to match that same attitude. He asked how long we knew each other and she went off onto a full in depth explanation that was entertaining. Most of it was fabricated, but she could make it sound so real; like even though I was the one experiencing it, she could persuade me to doubt my own memory. I played into her strange tale of mischief and romance. She weaved a fable of two people who were destined to meet, but obstacles would present themselves. The two warriors would cut down anything, or anyone, in their paths that tried to force them apart. _She really should have been born in ancient Greece, they would love her epics._ We all laughed together and she ended it with, "In all seriousness, Mae is a beacon of light in a very dark cave. She has a heart of gold and sticks to her guns."

I slowed my pace a bit and he nodded, then peered down at me, "Yes, I get the feeling she's a tough cookie." They spoke as if I were somewhere else. _She is really good at doing that; but in a way, I am happy that she can talk like that_.

Charlotte snorted, "Yeah, but she can also be a big pain! Always studying! We never get to hangout, and when we do she always has to be home early to do some sort of school work. I mean, c'mon. You are young! Act like it."

I fidgeted with my bag a bit and heat rose to my face. He could tell I was self conscious and proudly stated, "I am like that too. I love to hole-up in my room or something and read," He looked at me, "you shouldn't be ashamed of something that makes you so beautiful and clever."

'_Beautiful'?_ All of my hairs stood on edge and I stared into his eyes as they darted away from mine. _He thinks I am beautiful?_ My ears warped all sound around me and played back his last sentence over and over. Charlotte's voice wasn't cohesive underneath the thick wall of glass my mind put up to cancel out all noise. I heard his laughter and snapped back into reality; his laughs were sharp and sounded strained. Charlotte was no doubt poking fun at his last statement.

Just in time, we quickly approached the Café and I held the first door open and he held the second for us. The aroma of ground coffee beans filled my nostrils with nutty richness. I only became accustomed to the taste of coffee this semester because I knew that all the energy drinks I had were not helping, so I switched to a more socially acceptable outlet to obtain my caffeine fix. I entered the line and contemplated my vast array of choices; even though I was sure to get my usual iced vanilla brew with a blueberry muffin. I looked to my right and Charlotte giggled into my ear, "Isn't this wonderful! It is like a dream come true, right?" I nodded, my eyes filled with childlike wonder. I placed my order and waited at the end for my coffee, letting the live music to sweep me away.

The performer was a young man, about 25, with a soft raspy voice. He was singing alongside a classic acoustic guitar. His song was a bit melancholy; it was about a young boy who was teased until his best friend stood up for him, in turn he fell in love with the heroic boy. The chorus was: "I wanna tell you, all those crazy things, I wanna show you, how white are your wings". It was such a simple tune, which made the message more clear and powerful. I stood there, eyes closed, listening to the song.

"Mae!" I snapped my eyes open to Charlotte's voice crying out to me on my island. I looked at her, annoyed, and straight ahead to the hand that held my coffee. I muttered an apology to the young woman holding the cup, took it, and shrugged to my party. Charlotte just shook her head, and said something sarcastic to my Professor, which in turn made him laugh. I scurried, like a pill bug to an empty round table; that was to the right of the tiny stage and a couple of feet from the out cove where the bathrooms were. I sighed, humiliated, and dropped my junk next to me. The music filled my ears; the last of the song revealed the boy who was being teased with the crush on his friend committed suicide rather than be rejected. It was so sad, in the eyes of the lamentable boy. The melody consumed me, as I gazed upon my best friend and Professor chatting away. I spotted a muffin in his grasp; lemon cranberry zest. They seemed to be getting along well. Curtly, a small flame burst inside of my chest. It rose gradually to my cheeks. As I noticed how close their feet were, how much Charlotte was laughing, how engaging she was with him; how chummy they were. Envy spread to all corners of my body, igniting something disastrous that had been laying in wait. _How can she act so lightly with him?_ She turned to take note of where our table was and she winked softly at me. I trust her. I really do.

They both received their respected cups and retreated to my table. A forced cute smile cracked along my face. They both sat down, my Professor across the table from me, Charlotte to my left. She turned to me, "We were just talking about how much of a shut-in you are!"

I nearly spat out my coffee, "Wh-what?"

My Professor finely peeled away the clear cling wrap on his delicious muffin and nodded, "Yes, haha, I found it funny. That is exactly how I am. Sometimes my family or friends have to pry me from the security off my room." I sighed in relief that Charlotte didn't snuff the light shared between my Professor and me.

Sipping on my coffee I adjusted my foot on top of the table stand and my Professor snapped his head up. I jerked my leg away realizing it wasn't the table's foot mine was resting upon, but my Professor's. "I am so sorry! I didn't mean to kick you…the tables here can be sorta cramped."

I looked away and he laughed, "Don't be so worked up. It really is okay."

Charlotte snarkily nodded, "Yeah, Mae. Relax will yah?" I kicked her leg, on purpose. She shot a queer look at me and I poked at my muffin.

I soothingly smiled, "This place really is great, right? Everything here is organic and made daily. It really is strange that it isn't expensive."

My Professor humored me, "I guess it is due to the cheap student labor here."

Charlotte sipped her tea, "Yeah, I bet they are never shorthanded. Who wouldn't want to work here?"

I tried to keep my mouth occupied with my food for as long as I could. Evading such trivial questions from Charlotte like: "How much snow do you think we will get this year", "What classes do you most enjoy", or "How did you do last semester". These were the staple of regular college student conversation. Our topics were light. I spent most of my time analyzing the body language of my mysterious counterpart. He seemed so entertained by whatever happened upon our lips, like if he had just mastered the English language and wished to hold any discussion with anyone. _I wish I could be as passionate about the weather as he is. _I studied his face; cheekbones sculpted like ivory peaks when he smiles, teeth slightly crooked when he speaks, eyebrows perched perfectly when in awe, a single strand of unruly softly curled burnt sienna hair dangling before his almond shaped oculus, traces of stubborn stubble lined his finely carved jawbone whimsically. He was ethereal. If I spoke too fast, or breathed too hard I was certain I would blow him away. I looked over at Charlotte, who had the floor, and she was talking regularly, but cast a sly grin in my direction.

The atmosphere wasn't uncomfortable, I would say, but whenever there was a pause in conversation the air transformed into something more earnest than just three friends casually having coffee together. I felt a sense of closeness with my Professor that I never knew possible. I sat dazed, fixated on how he breathed; wispy and yet elegantly poised. On how he drank his coffee; bending his head backwards, the underside of his beveled jaw turned upwards, his strong throat protruded and recessed with the trickle of liquid inside of it. It was amazing; like a private burlesque show only to me.

He smiled cautiously at me, "Something the matter, Mae?" I glanced over to Charlotte and she was grinning wildly. _Was it my face? Oh no, please don't tell me I have been gawking at him all this time._

I shook my head suddenly and waved my hands manically, "No, no! Nothing is wrong! I was just thinking."

Charlotte rolled her eyes, "I shoulda known. This girl can't stay on Earth for more than a half hour at a time. I swear! She's the worst!" I smiled, a bit hurt.

He caught my sunken smile, "It's not a bad thing…" he chuckled, "…sometimes I spend ten minutes trying to think of the perfect word to use." He looked me straight in the eyes, "I like that about you. You take everything into deep thought and consideration."

I froze in time. I couldn't blink or breathe. It was like I was in suspended gravity and was stuck in one place in the universe without an outside force to direct me in any way. His eyes poured into me and I was addicted to the stingy sweet feel of his arctic stare. I opened my mouth ajar and a light groan escaped my lips. I looked shyly at my half devoured muffin. Charlotte kicked my foot under the table and I shot right up, looking suspiciously at her. She smiled innocently, "I know, but sometimes a regular conversation can be a rare thing! She tends to over complicate the trivial pleasantries of small talk. It can be sorta annoying to have to have an in depth conversation about most things we talk about, you know?"

My Professor nodded politely, "Your observations worry me, Charlotte. Don't you think you are being too critical on her?"

An icy chill sped up my spine as I felt the weight of his words. The austerity in his voice shattered my nerves and I could feel my face draining of color. He was dangerously serious. I cautiously tilted my head from the table to his face. His eyes, those piercing blues, were drilling into her like a bullet through flesh and bone. His agitation was concealed so poorly. She appeared to be calm on the outside. We all knew her insides were tremulous. My heart thumped wildly in my chest with anticipation of her defense.

Her sweet smile plastered slovenly onto her face, "You know it is all in just fun, right? She knows I don't mean to hurt her, right Mae?" Charlotte's voiced cracked at the utterance of my name and I nodded, in a still trance. The room's temperature increased tenfold and it was starting to get hard to breathe.

He remained unconvinced. Like a fortress he rebutted, "I am not so sure of that. A part of me knows that you are just kidding but the darker side of me cannot grasp that fact. Is it that you are jealous of her intellect?"

I slammed my eyes shut in that moment. _How brazen can you be Professor?_ His words were harshly chipping at her defense. He seemed to be having a lighthearted conversation in his mind, unbeknownst to the damage he inflicted upon her. I have always known that she has envied my process of thought, that my grades were always better than hers, but it was no big deal. I couldn't come up with enough courage to call her on it, and this man -whom I have only been an acquaintance to- can, without remorse, unload this fact that has been buried inside of me so deep that I never wanted it to be resurfaced ever again. I sat there still as a corpse, my silence spoke louder than anything that I could be able to convey.

Charlotte grasped for the right words, "Uhm, no that's not the case! I know she is a better student than I am, and I guess I have always looked up to her for that, but I am not dangerously jealous of her. There is no way that I would attack her in such a way, in front of one of her professors no less. Everything I say, I thought, would be good for a topic of conversation…" like a child, she literally points her blaming finger toward me "…because she is one of the only things that you and I have in common!" _So she is blaming her jealousy on me?_

He didn't blink. He didn't move awkwardly in his seat like usual. I was terrified for Charlotte. I had mixed feelings at this moment; in one hand I was so enamored by his words that I cast away his blatant disregard for conventional social conversation, and in the other I was absolutely shocked that he could become this stone cold fortification who would pursue Machiavellian measures to assure his victory.

He traced the top of his coffee cup with a bored finger, breaking his hold on her. He shook his head, "That is no argument, to blame her for your short comings. I know it is easy to talk about her, but you don't have to be so harsh." _Like you're one to talk Professor. _His eyes lazily caught hers again and she uncrossed her legs under the table. She placed her hands on the table top in a relaxed manner. _How is it possible for her to be so calm right now?_ This was a battle of respect. I admire my Professor for obvious reasons and I also admire Charlotte for her stubbornness. She will not let go of her case, like she had an actual shot at winning it. We all knew that she was going to fail, but she might as well go out with a bang.

I wanted to look away from him, but his protective aura gripped my attention. Something magnificent swam in his eyes; it was something deep, dark, and primal –almost like it had always been but in hibernation inside of him. His strength to guard me humiliated me humbly; the fact he has enough vigor to defend himself and me was overwhelming. I am the most defenseless person I know. I felt vulnerable for the first time in a while, but safe beside him. She spread her fingers out to grasp her coffee, lifted it to her mouth, drank, and contemplated her retort. She peered down at him; her pride was so thick and tangible that I could have bottled some up for myself. Smugly, she chuckled, "I know you are new to our interaction, but this is how things are between Mae and me. That's all it is! We are big ball busters she doesn't look it but she dish it as well as she can take it." _Please don't put me on the spot._ He nodded with a clear understanding but a glimpse of skepticism reflected in his eyes. She smiled charmingly, "I am sorry you felt that way, and I appreciate you standing up for her. I know she has a hard time defending herself. Thank you, Professor." He blinked quickly, surprised by her apology, cleared his throat, and the severe look on his face faded into the depth of his psyche. _What a remarkable defense system; he can utilize it whenever he sees fit._

Professor Kelly's face softened, shoulders loosened, and stumbled over his words, "Oh! Uhm…it's o-okay, I don't…I mean…I guess. I get…I can sometimes be like this, it is really bothersome to me…" He laughed sheepishly "…sometimes I can get passionate over things that trouble me deeply."

Charlotte's ego deflated and she glanced over to me as if remembering I existed. I batted my eyes at her, blushing timidly. She sighed with tired eyes and whispered in my ear as she rose to go to the bathroom, "You're a lucky one." She trailed off into the hallway and into the lady's room. My rosy cheeks deepened, my Professor and I were alone at the table face to face. _Breathe._ I tore off a piece of muffin to refrain from speech and he took the cue to take another sip of his coffee. I looked closer at his neck; that was presenting itself to me. I could make out a little section near his esophagus shuddering; it was his heartbeat. I could see his pulse through the stretched skin and it was moving hastily. _So he has noticed we are alone as well._ His pulsating skin mesmerized me; it was so simple, so delicate, and so sensual.

The music in the background caught my attention. It was a beautiful piano piece. _How romantic!_ I finished my muffin and he his coffee. I looked up at him and smile cutely, "You didn't have to do that, you know?"

He looked puzzled, "What? The coffee was good!"

I squeezed my lips together in a quirky frown, "No haha, I mean defending me like you did."

He placed his coffee back down on the table and sighed softly, "Yes, I know. I wanted to. I could not stand her berating you like that. I know you are wonderful, maybe not flawless, but she has to know that your mind is a gift. It's a gift that I and everyone around you are lucky enough to cherish."

I looked away from him, "No, don't say that. I'm no saint. I am no one different than anyone else. I can't even stand up to Charlotte. What kind of person am I?" _How do I even measure against someone like him? _

He brings his hand up, palm facing out, "That's not what I see. You just need the courage to do so. I know you have it in you, but why are you so afraid?" He places his hand back onto the table, calmly.

Slightly irritated I switched vision over to him, "What makes you say that? You don't even know what goes on in my head!"

He just smiled plainly, "I know, but I know you are genuine to the core. You wear your heart on your sleeve. You may be oversensitive to others but I know you have the power in you to speak your mind. You do so in class; I know it's there." His smile crept slowly into my heart; such a lovely and warm gesture. He shrugs, "Who knows? Maybe in time you might be as blunt as me! Haha, I didn't start this way. I knew that getting some points across you need to have less tact..." _No, you are just completely tactless._ "…I was just like you in college. I never had someone explain this to me. I transformed demeanor too late, you see. I was always taking things the wrong way, getting frustrated at the littlest thing. You had a small sample of that today..." I flinched. "…I see. I am sorry if I scared you. That is the person I wanted to leave behind. Through my studies and analyzing ideas more thoroughly I have achieved enlightenment. It only took me until my mid-thirties to realize this, but most things improve with experience." I was amazed by his monologue. I yearned to acquire an eighth of the wisdom he possesses, I didn't expect to receive and digest all of this in one sitting. He gestured his hands in my direction, "So, what do you think?" _Honestly, I can't right now._ I blinked feverishly, trying to respond in a scholarly fashion.

Charlotte slinked back to our table, only to pick up her bag and coat, "Oh guys, I'm sorry! My mom just called and I have to go home now. Don't worry about it. I parked over here anyway." _What a snake. Was this her plan all along?_ She leaned in to give me a one arm embrace and whispered, "_Play nice you two!_" I almost socked her in the abdomen. Her face held a toothy grin, she waved to my Professor, "See you later Professor Kelly! It was fun!"

He gracefully reciprocated the wave, "Likewise, it was a pleasure." I watched her sashay away. I quickly glanced to my Professor and he was beaming pleasantly at me, "You were saying?" I gritted my teeth silently at myself; my heart beat quickening.

Trying to remain composed, I smiled sincerely, "I know I can sometimes be more reserved than I ought to be…" sarcastically he shook his head "…and I know that it might seem like I can't fight my own battles, but I just choose the ones I should fight. Charlotte's remarks do affect me, but I don't let that get in the way of our friendship; I will say something if she goes over the line, but that hasn't come yet."

He readjusted in his seat peering at me through the corner of his eyes, "Will you? When the time comes to speak up, will you know it?" I

nodded wistfully, "Yes, I have no problem speaking up when it really matters."

This topic leads to an extensive conversation about my younger sister and how I deal with her daily annoyances. He seemed to be more comfortable that the topic deferred from his life. I could sense it in his movements; whenever I asked about his family his shoulders seemed to stiffen and eyes were jarring. This fueled my curiosity and I longed to know more about him, _he will tell me when he is ready. It's not his fault I am so open about my life._ I watched as patrons came and went. Time elapsed in the blink of an eye. I wanted this moment to last forever; my Professor and I chatting in a café about god knows what. We seemed to meander into another conversation about politics, then history, then literature, then school.

I was so interested in his childhood education, "So tell me Professor, what first interested you in pursuing philosophy?"

He sipped his third coffee of the night and placed it back on the table, "Well, it was my mother. I always questioned why she was so hell bent on forcing Christianity on me; this lead to many one sided arguments, when I was only eight or nine. I always hated going to church because, like most children, I had no idea what I was learning. I became obsessed with knowing the truth. I read the bible, with some help from Webster, and tried to make sense of it, really I did! I just couldn't! I went to my mother for guidance but my questions infuriated her further because she had no answers. I went to my Pastor and he had no answers as well, that satisfied me; they both had answers but not the ones that I was looking for…" I bit the side of my new orange and mint muffin, enthralled by his voice, never losing eye contact. I was surprised how in depth and passionately he spoke "…I questioned a lot of things when I was younger. I read a lot of books, and never had any true friends. I tried to fit in with all the children my age, but was always baffled in the ideas they chose to belief. At a very young age I realized my own free will to believe whatever I thought made sense. I knew that Santa Claus was a fake because it just seemed illogical. This fought my inner child; I didn't want to toss away something that I knew to be false because I wanted to believe in the magic, the child like wonderment, that follows myths like Santa Clause."

I chuckled, "You seem like you were a profound child."

He laughed, "Yeah, it does look that way, cursed with a restless mind; reminds me a lot of you, Mae."

The corner of his lips curled upward as my name slipped through them. I nearly choked on the half chewed pastry in my mouth. I swallowed the chunk and cleared my throat, "Does it? I haven't noticed!" Half sarcastically, half nervously the words sputtered away from me, into his ears.

I could feel my hand start to shake so I jab it under my leg. I dove into his eyes, they locked furiously into me. My fingers quivered underneath my leg, feet began to shuffle with anxiety, and I searched his body for any sign of excitement. I noticed that is body language was serene but his eyes were frantic. _You can't hide anything from me, my dear Professor._ I glanced at my phone from my pocket, _5:52. _He observed my actions and checked his own watch, "Oh man. Is it really that late? That explains why there is no one here. They are all eating dinner!"

I giggled sweetly, "Shall we go?"

He nodded, "If you don't mind! I mean, we are going to see each other tomorrow anyway." I smiled, nodded, threw out my trash, and his to be polite. He chuckled, "Oh thanks! You are so softhearted."

I picked up my things and threw my jacket on. He attempted to slide his blazer onto his arms, but one of his appendages folded into the wrong area. He struggled to fit his limb into the right hole, realizing it was on upside down. I turned to him, and burst out into a laughing fit. He stood, flabbergasted, the collar of the jacket by his backside, black fabric unnaturally contorted around his torso, and he shrugged. We both exchanged a series of giggles. I reached out to pull the stubborn cloth off from him; I retreated to his back, pulling at the back of his arms. I finally yanked it away from his body, turned it right side up, placed the shoulder region atop his broad expanse, and he smoothly slid each arm in its respected destination. I creased the wrinkles away from the sleeves; unbeknownst to myself I was gliding my hands around his midsection as well. I could feel the shape of his trunk, the bevels between rib into hip, the weight of his tissue; I could almost feel where his scapula faded into muscle. He lifted his arms gently, welcoming my searching digits. Entranced by these new sensations, I wrapped my arms around to the front of him, my fingers shifted over elusive pockets where hands kept warm, over to the glossy buttons. I toyed with each button with special attention, exploring each hole laced with black string, shifting each button to its perforation. I pressed myself gently against his back, my breasts softly compress into his body. I could hear his stifled gasp as my warm chest shifted against him. The first button was simple compared to the other two. My hands were trembling horribly by the last button; I was encompassed by the sound of his breath, heaving through his lungs. I could hear it crisply through his back. It was like the resonance of waves leisurely unfolding against sand; it was muffled as if I were listening to it through a thin wall.

I held my breath and his hitched lightly when the last button was comfortably fastened. I slithered my little arms away from his body, grazing the familiar fabric in the gentlest way. I regained my stagnant breath and took a half a step backward, parting indefinitely from his person. He turned around, facing me. Without a word I tinkered with the ruffled jacket around the lining to ensure a perfect fit. I took another half step backwards, admiring my work.

His smile beamed upon my face like a warm sun bath, "Enjoying yourself?" His voice was echoing gingerly through my mind.

I wagged my finger at him, "After you did so well putting it on, Mister?"

He teased, "Oh no! Please don't put me in detention!"

I stuck my tongue out, metal sparkling, "Maybe I will! Then again, what if you forget which shoe goes on which foot! Who would be there to repair you?" I noticed a faint pang in his eyes, a longing that was never before present. I put my bag on my shoulder and we merrily proceeded to walk back to campus.

After a good five minutes of pure silence he glanced at me, "You know, I remember my mother saying the same thing to me; something about how my wife will have a difficult time making heads or tails of me." I smiled but his faded, "No one has demonstrated such unexpected kindness to me."

He stopped walking; I turned to him, "Really? No one?"

He shrugged, "Well, nothing so out of the blue. People have always been kind, but to be kind for the sake of kindness itself is unprecedented. Thank you for being so sweet to me." I saw it. For the first time I understood what he was feeling: vulnerable.

He looked away from me, the corner of his eyes glistening. Maybe it was from discomfiture or the sheer fact of my gentle actions, but I could have sworn I saw tears welling up inside those mystifying eyes. I felt my body acting on its own; dropping my bag, strutting over to him, and throwing my small arms around his ribs. I dove my astonished expression deep within his chest, hiding my wide eyes. He encased his arms around my shoulders, letting his bag fall, pulling me close to him. He buried his face in my peach scented hair. I felt his nose brush tenderly against my tresses. I felt the delicate tremor of his heart beating; faster as time progressed. It felt like forever. It felt like home. I finally leaned outwardly a bit to speak, "I'm sorry…I just felt like…" His face still in my locks, I could feel his lips shifting sideways; he shook his head at me carefully not to disturb our position.

He sighed dreamily, "Don't apologize. There is no reason to."

I nestled into his chest again, breathing in his aura. He moved his hands up from my back to my shoulders and placed me away from him. I looked straight up at him, bemused, and he rested his lips upon my brow. He gave it a petite peck and I retracted my hands from his sides.

He smiled sincerely, "Thank you, Mae."


	10. Chapter 10: Upshot

Chapter 10

_Upshot_

The rest of that night was a blur after that moment. I walked leisurely to my car, after separating from him when we arrived. I cannot recall what we conversed about, but it was nothing of importance. The texture of his soft lips lingered on my forehead. Immediate warmth rushed to my face upon recalling our actions. I felt foolish and wild. _This is without a doubt one of the craziest things I have ever put into motion._ I resorted to acting like a giddy school girl; bubbling emotions seemed to pour out of me like an overflowing pot of boiling water. I pondered my future measures on the drive home. _Should I tell Charlotte? When should I, if I choose to?_ These questions -and many more- plagued my mind and were incessantly rattling my brain. I assessed his actions countless times. He was so inviting, so graciously accepting. He could have pushed me away or just stood there, limp while I held his body against mine. I tinkered with the thought as I opened the front door. The house was still and quiet. It was soothing since my thoughts were so strident. I proceeded up into my room, _not really hungry…I might be later tonight._ I closed my door, threw my books on the floor, opened my document, and recounted the events that took place earlier tonight. It took me a good hour and a half to get all the wording precise but I ended it with: _More developments to come, you just wait._ It is always precarious to create something intimate like this, especially on my computer. Who knows who might stumble upon it, I won't be embarrassed because I have written nothing but the truth.

* * *

><p>Mae can sometimes be too obsessive at times, like sometimes she can go through a phase –whether it be music or food- and be out of it by the end of two or three weeks. She becomes infatuated and distracted easily, this behavior seems to increase with the amount of work she needs to accomplish. I guess you could call her the ultimate procrastinator.<p>

* * *

><p>Around 8:45 my stomach rumbled. I jumped out of bed and carefully tip toed down the stairs, trying to access the situation within the first floor. I heard the T.V. on in the living room and my mother's voice chatting in the kitchen. I paused on the second to last stair, listening intently. I try to avoid my family as much as I possibly can, it's nothing against them, but I really hate casual pleasantries. I couldn't make out the other voice in the kitchen, perhaps she was cooking something; she likes to read the steps to the recipes out loud. I sniffed the air trying to pinpoint the direction of the kitchen. Bingo. The faint aroma of cooking vegetables and meat floated in the air. I bounced off the stairs and rounded the corner to the kitchen. I stepped onto the tiled floor and my mother turned around, mouthing something about a table spoon of salt. She looked up and almost leaped two feet in the air upon noticing my presence in the room. "Don't do that to me! I almost spilled the whole mixture on the ground!" I observed the large mixing bowl in her arms. Inside were a variety of dry ingredients she needed to make dough of some kind.<p>

My mother loves to cook. She always had. In our old shitty apartment it devastated her that none of the built in appliances worked. The oven, stove, or dishwasher never worked properly. Not even the refrigerator could keep conventional milk good for more than three days. The stove was electric and only one burner was in okay use, not to mention the fires that took place if we even attempted to utilize the other three. Now that we are in a new house with utilities that are efficient I can find her cooking at any given time throughout the day on weekends. Sometimes she is up late making or baking on weeknights. I have no idea how she works up the strength to commute every morning after cooking until two a.m. I guess it is her escape.

I shook my head at her and sat at the table, "What are you making now?"

She looked over at her shabby cook book for reference, "Just some mini pot pies. They are really good this time of year, right?" I shrugged and reached out my arms to the untouched fruit bowl in the middle of the table. I grabbed a Granny Smith and chomped into it. I doubted that she was cooking them for our house. She tends to bring them to work for lunch. _I don't mind, I'll make a sandwich. _I took another bite and marched over to the refrigerator. I took the strawberry jam out, opened the cupboard above the sink, evading my mom, took the bread and peanut butter, and fashioned a sandwich. I cut it in two triangles. _Fancy._ Apple in mouth I proceeded back to the table, taking the apple out, and shoving the sandwich in my maw. I envied my mother, how she could turn simple ingredients into a brilliant transformation of flavor and texture. She could create fifteen different textures out of a potato. Hardly any words were exchanged between me and her. She talked to her book and I my sandwich.

A handful of minutes passed and I bid her Goodnight and she kissed the top of my head, rustling my hair with her clean left hand. I disposed of the apple's core and jogged to my room. I changed into my pajamas and studied for a bit on my bed, my Philosophy papers peeking out from beneath the stack of assorted subjects. I leaned over and picked a sheet of notes filled with definitions. I pressed the paper to my lips and closed my eyes. Flashes of my Professor's touch vibrated through me, I recalled his scent with a shudder of my body. I gently pushed all my papers off my mattress and turned my lamp off. I turned the volume up on my T.V. and reached into my nightstand drawer. I pulled out a vacuum sealed freezer bag with a long object inside. I shuffled position on my bed, a pillow on top of my waist for sound absorption. I shut my eyes, his voice rumbling to me. I recalled all his features I engrossed today, his strapping neck melting into his vast shoulders, his slender wrists feeding into solid forearms painted lightly with soft hair, the way he would tinker with objects on the table while he talked. I slid my panties off, kicking them carelessly into my blanket. I began searching my body in the way I would think that he would, mimicking how his hands would caress my skin. His lips against my skin made me wonder how he would kiss my body. I fantasized about his soft lips, nipping at my smooth ivory skin. My fingers played at the skin between my legs, teasing the throbbing area. I opened my eyes on the plastic bag. I glided my hand and withdrew the object of my lust and turned the black knob at the bottom. The object shuddered within my grasp and I placed it between my legs. My breath came fast, anticipating the sensation upon my passionate skin. It worked diligently up until it rested upon my most sensitive area; as if my Professor's skilled fingers working the spot gently, but quickly. I clutched my body pillow next to me with my free hand, leaning into it for support as my body wildly buckled in extreme pleasure. I bit the fabric on the pillow lightly, as if it were his shirt I was nibbling. My eyes shot open, thrusting my hips into the blanket. My toes curled and I sighed sweetly into the cushion supporting me. Shock spread through my trembling being, deafness and blindness crippled my ecstasy ridden body. I let out a tiny screech into the material next to me and panted wildly. My hand slipped away from my body and I turned the device off. I reached routinely into the drawer once more, vision never leaving the mass next to me, pulled out a sanitizing wipe, and rubbed the object of pleasure. I placed it gingerly back into its house and back into the drawer. I threw the wipe in the trash, turned the volume from my T.V. down, held my body pillow with both arms, and faded swiftly into my dreams.


	11. Chapter 11: Humility

Chapter 11

_Humility_

I bounded up the stairs to reach my Professor's office. I was twenty minutes early, but he never specified if I couldn't arrive early, only I would be chastised if I were late. _I need to rest._ As soon as I ran up the three flights I collapsed onto a bench near the staircase. I have no idea why I was in a rush. _I'm early; there is no reason to rush things._ I grinned at myself and even though my panting ceased my heart wouldn't let up. _It's just nerves, it will pass. _I was so anxious to see him again, to see how he will act. I quietly approached his door, ripped my ear buds from my ears, wrapped them around my iPod and stuffed them into my bag. I froze, hand hovering over the door knob. _It's going to be fine; he might just act like nothing happened. I'm cool with that…who am I kidding? I would be mortified!_ I turned the knob quickly, closed my eyes, swung the door open, "Hey Professor, I know I'm…"

I opened my eyes on my Professor who was leaning back in his office chair, one hand harshly gripping the corner of the desk, the other around something peculiar under his desk. I turned my head, abruptly, "Oh god, I uhm…" He jumped up at the sound of my voice, body twitching, eyes wide, hiding the object of his possession. I put one hand on my face, covering my eyes, the other in front of me, "I'll just…oh shit. You finish whatever you are doing!" I literally jumped out of the room with one fluid motion and slammed the door behind me. _What the fuck is happening?_

* * *

><p>Mae was born with a low white blood cell count. She always had a difficult time with some of the smallest colds and in times of great stress it might make her horrifyingly ill.<p>

* * *

><p>I hunched over, ran into the wall across the door, and crashed my back into it, sliding down onto the floor. My hand never left my face, resting on my mouth. I was in frenzy, sirens going off in my mind, heart beating violently. I was afraid that my face would permanently stay in ghastly awe. I could hear intense crashing from inside his room. <em>What did I just see? <em> The image of him, panting softly, stroking tenderly at his skin warmly haunted me. It wasn't the act itself that impacted me so greatly, but his face of horror when he leapt up. I giggled to myself, _no sense in being embarrassed over it. It's actually kinda funny; I was doing the same thing last night. _The door in front of me cracked slightly a velvety voice emanating from the other side, "Mae? Uhm…do you mind coming in?" My legs uncurled out in front of me, my hand that wasn't resting on my mouth propped myself up, and, against my will, I wobbly shuffled into his room.

The first thing I noticed was not how red his face was, but how disheveled the room was. It seemed he b-lined straight to the door right after I left, bulldozing everything in his path. I avoided eye contact the best I could, without being rude. Silence struck the odd room as I trudged my way to the chair before his desk. I decided to remove my frozen hand from my face to death grip the arm of the chair I was sitting in. He moved in front of me, and sat miserably on his desk, his white converse toes perched on the ground, and he slightly crossed his legs uncomfortably concealing his embarrassment. I refrained speaking; he swallowed hard, "I was…"

I nervously spat, "I know what you were doing." _God that sounded harsh. _I waved my hands in front of me, "Not like it's a bad thing, whatever…I just…" Defeated by my own words I looked up at him. Between the crimson blushes setting on his cheeks laid the sweetest smirk. I tried to adjust my legs several times on order to relieve the heat between my legs, with no avail I stood up to sit lightly on the arm of the chair. He seemed curious as to why I was so fidgety, tilting his head when I rose from my chair. The silence in the room was agonizing. I wanted to reassure him that it was okay, and to forget about it, but this stinging in the back of my spine egged me on to so much worse than that. I scratched my ear, and something obscure surfaced inside of me. I couldn't have him forget something like this, I had to tease him.

It was just too easy. A more dominant version of myself asserted power, "So…here we are." He nodded, like a complacent youth. I chuckled seductively, "I like your office…" I looked around at the charming books on the selves, "…I can see why you are...drawn..to it." I pierced my eyes through him, parting my lips, my tongue grazing the corner of my mouth, and I cutely bit my bottom lip. He looked strangely at me, like if he were seeing me for the first time, realizing my full potential as a woman. His quivering fingers attempted to hold the border of his desk, but shook the papers underneath them. Some papers spilled onto the floor, I paid them no mind, never leaving my Professor's gaze. He broke away, turning his head to the floor and the papers scattered all over it. I placed my bag on the ground, his eyes moving to the item, then back at me. I huffed lightly but swiftly, sensing his focus on me once more.

I pulled at the bottom of my shirt and innocently looked at him, "Whatever you were doing…" He winced "…you never got to finish, right?" The last word dripped out of my mouth playfully. I nonchalantly smiled and he turned faintly pale. He breathed sharply a bit at my brazen statement. I stood up once again, "Here is what I think…" I peered down at him, "…you can either wait until I leave, which might not be the wisest of choices considering I will not make it easy for you to endure." He sat there, perfectly still as I continued, "Or you can continue."

He pointed blushingly at me, voice cracking, "You, here?"

I batted my eyelashes maliciously, a sly grin slicing into my face, "That's right." He shook his head in disbelief, obviously choosing the first. In rebellion of his choice I unbuttoned the first three pale grey buttons on my black blouse, exposing the top of my fresh pink breasts. He traced the curves of my chest with his eyes, biting his lip viciously. _Come on Professor, I won't let up. _

My Professor tugged at his dim khaki pants, the material becoming visibly restricting. He pulled on the sleeves of his snowy button down, trying to bring attention away from his asserting passion. I accepted his challenge and stripped the barrette from my hair, letting my luscious locks tumbling down over my quivering shoulders. The overwhelming aroma of sweet fruit emanated from my tresses. I could also make out the faint scent of his stimulation; the familiar sweet sweat, the desperate pheromones. The air became thick, intense, and sultry.

I breathed, "What's wrong? You look so tense…" I relaxed my shoulders and released another button exposing the majority of my cleavage that was spilling out of my ebony laced bra, "…you should unwind." His features were anxious to make a move, any move. Assessing the rise in temperature in the room he decided to unfasten his first two buttons as well, allowing his sternum to breathe; exposing a small patch of hair peeking out from beneath his shirt. Hiding his arousal was futile at this point, so he uncrossed his legs and I watched feverishly as his charming thickness presented itself, still sadly restrained in his clothes. I unconscientiously gasped at the size of his extent, moaning softly in approval of his actions. He wanted to alleviate himself, I could tell he was aching, but his shame held him back.

I tossed my hair flippantly and purred, "How is this then…" I placed my hands on my body, "…what if I do the same?" Intrigued, he watched me as I gently removed my whole blouse, inhaling stridently as the air hit my skin; I closed my eyes slowly, and explored my chest and legs with my hands. I opened my eyes on him, his mouth ajar. I sighed longingly, picked up my right leg, slung it over the arm of the chair, bent it so it knelt comfortably on the seat, and lifted my short black striped skirt over the arm so I straddled it; rubbing against my wet area. He observed me stroke and ride the arm between my sheer covered legs.

My dear Professor lost control.

I locked into his eyes and as if in a trance he soothingly grazed over his black leather belt to unzip his pants. Upon seeing this act I slowed my own actions, letting my focus be drawn only to him. With every click unhitching the closure I let out a short quiet moan, almost like a cry. _All he needed was a bit of comfort. I didn't mind acting first_. I loved him watching me. He was so pure, yet severe with lust. Before he unzipped all the way he led his hands back to the buttons on his shirt. _He doesn't want me feeling uncomfortably exposed._ He tossed away the cloth. I took in every inch of his flesh, the sweat glistening beautifully on his abdomen. We were so close in proximity; only four feet apart. He proceeded to unhitch his zipper all the way, inserting his hand within the opening. I licked my lips eagerly and eased off the arm, sitting carefully in the chair, shimmied my skirt down past my thighs, past my boots, and onto the floor. My black and pink panties peeped teasingly through the translucent hosiery. He waited to watch my actions unravel, his hand delicately grasping his tender skin within his pants. I lifted my left leg, rested my thigh on the corrupted arm which was marked by my scent. Mischievously, my fingers walked over my folded stomach, over the top of my stockings, and rested upon the top of the middle of my legs. My other leg spread a little to showcase my fingers, which were marching on top of the warm fabric. I lifted my head, as if just realizing he was there. His breath shuddered out of him, spastic and long. His eyes dreamy, poised lids heavy. I traced a fingertip along the length of my hot region. _I want to see it Professor. Give it to me. It's your move._

His free hand gripped the edge of his desk, his tendons delicately raised underneath his skin. His other hand slowly withdrew his throbbing length. I whimpered at the volume of it, my desire to soothe it deepened. _Oh, he's natural. It looks delicious. _At the sight of his excitement my arousal spiked. My fingers began to act on their own accord, massaging the fabric concealing my tenderness. My eyes rolled upwards in pleasure, and lids shut against them. My spine trembled; my back arched a bit to try to relieve the ache. My hips ended up riding against my hand, synchronizing the movements to my fingers. My mouth opened with deep panting, beautiful moans escaping my throat. I opened my eyes to my Professor, who was rhythmically stroking himself. _That's it. Told you I wouldn't make it easy. _His panting was more aggressive than my own, needing his release. His eyes tightly shut, face toward the ground to the side of me. I stared at him. His groaning was deeper than my shallow whimpers. _You're a loud one, aren't you?_ His eyes opened, head turned to me; my hands rubbing my body fervently. When he realized I had been staring at him, the most striking noise leapt out from his throat. It wasn't a moan, but it was stronger than a whimper. It sounded like a wonderful sigh, something born out of complete yearning. His voice shook me. My hands tore off my hosiery from my left leg; it hung pointlessly from my right. My digits carefully stroked at the sticky cloth, entered it from the side, and little by little into me. I exchanged hands, withdrawing the talented one to my face. His breathing became shallow as I brought my shimmering fingers to my mouth. I breathed in the erotic fragrance and placed them to my lips. His hand held tighter around his thickness, it moved quicker, a small stream of lusciousness dripped down the side of his hand; the clear liquid gleaming down his member, lubricating every pump. I wished to taste it. I wanted nothing more than to lick his fingers, but before me are my own. My taste entered my mouth as my fingers below investigated my other entrance. I lapped up every bit of myself from them, my stud shining between my fingers. I peered upon him and watched his amazed expression, as if it is his first time witnessing such an act. I grinned with flawless expertise, he gasped furiously.

I could tell he was close, and so was I. A bit of my tender skin exposed, my fingers twisted inside me; his rapid strokes pulling back his hot skin. I loved how curled his trunk was; his legs sprawled upon his desk, sweat beading on his chest. These were the moments of vulnerability I craved. His eyes widened and body trembled, "I'm gonna…" I nodded, bit my lip, and held on for dear life. His hips uncontrollably thrust into his hand, his breath frantic, "Oh god…Oh Mae…"

Standing before the door, my face bright scarlet, I decided to knock.


	12. Chapter 12: Faint Light

Chapter 12

_Faint Light_

I knocked three times, "Hey Professor, it's Mae."

After a couple of minutes of excruciating silence a muffled voice sounded, "Of course! Come in!" I swallowed the protrusion in my gullet and turned the knob. I opened the door to a man sitting at his desk, idly typing away on his laptop. A faint spell of disappointment rode through me. Confused at this, I shook my head trying to recollect my thoughts. I cheerfully smiled at him, sparkling with glee. I grazed the back of the chair in front of his desk, pivoting myself to plop down into it. "You're early." He peered up from his laptop lazily, completely devoid of emotion. A tether curled up inside my stomach, a swift nausea spread throughout me. _He's not happy to see me?_

Straining the smile I chuckled, "I like to be early."

He, enthralled by his computer, slowly nodded in recognition of sound coming from my direction. I placed my bag on the ground and played with my skirt awkwardly as he was ticking away, completely consumed. I felt so stupid, the remnants of my daydream lingering around my mind. Time marched so slowly, minutes seemed like hours without conversation, just the intermittent clicking of fingers to keys. At 5:14 he closed his laptop and positioned it aside. I looked up at him, my smile faded to a sad smirk.

He laced his fingers, "Sorry about that…I had some ideas so I had to get them down right away! You know how that is." He smiled cordially and stood up, arms wide, "I am so happy to see you. C'mere!"

My face lit up like the night sky and I popped out of my chair, slinking over to him. I entered his arms and they wrapped around me like a cozy blanket. Still feeling foolish, I recalled my fantasy, making my knees quiver. My legs trembled weakly, causing curiosity to overwhelm my Professor. I felt his arms loosen and mine followed suit. I took a step backward and looked up at his face, which was concerned, "Are you okay, Mae?"

I waved my hands in front of me, "Yeah! Why?" I looked straight at my hands in front of my face; they were shaking without my conscious help. I curled my fingers quickly and shoved my hands to my sides, crossing my arms. A strained odd laugh choked in the back of my throat. My teeth chattered lightly in my mouth, mind spinning; dizziness erupted out of me and I grabbed my forehead.

Standing a foot in front of me, my Professor extended his arm to my shoulder, "Mae! Are you alright?" His voice was so distant, muffled, like he was speaking through thick cloth. The whole room was upside down and then faded to black.

* * *

><p>Mae missed much of her schooling due to her illness. Her mother was always at her side, trying her best to teach her the material after she got home from work. Mae was always close and grateful for this.<p>

* * *

><p>The presence underneath me alluded to the fact I was reclining against something; something soft, something comfortable. Weakness crippled my motion. <em>How…where...? <em>With all my strength my eyes crept open; a bright white light singeing the nerves in my corneas. _What the fuck? Did I die?_ I shut my eyes quickly and grabbed at the object below me, a bunch of cloth wadded up in my fist. I examined the cloth in my hand, it was warm and soft. My fingers traced it upwards to the edge. I ran my hand down the side of the cloth, which had a border like a platform. I kept moving my hand until it bumped into something solid, something warm. I just noticed the faint pressure and heat on my left thigh upon discovering this new mass. _A blanket?_ I followed the warm fabric over my leg and to its end which folded backward towards my feet. I placed my interested hand on my thigh and felt pieces of something soft; bringing it between my fingertips I rubbed the tiny bristles.

I attempted to open my eyes again, slower and with more caution. The light wasn't as intense, and I focused my sight on my surroundings. Above me was the light, attached to a pose able lamp arm. Next to me was a white curtain with green flower details spotted throughout. I looked down and saw the sterile cover on top of the bed I was apparently lying on. _The nurse's office._ I spent some time here between classes whenever I feel weak, and Mrs. Donberg takes my temperature among other things.

I brought my attention to the mass on my bed, curled in a shrunken ball, my Professor laid at my bedside. His jacket was half off, hair all ruffled. He must have called the nurse over to help. _How did he get here though?_ The curtain shifted and Mrs. Donberg's cheerful face greeted me with a smile. Puzzled I nodded towards the napping man on my bed next to me.

She sighed and whispered, "He must be exhausted. The way he came runnin' in like that, you in his arms, huffin' and puffin'. He thought you had a heart attack or something." Her last word trailed off, staring at his serene composure. She chuckled, "Told him that you were alright, but he wouldn't have it. He wouldn't leave you for nothing." She nodded at the nightstand by the bed, a package of poptarts and a bottle of water waited to be consumed. She smiled, "He got that for you when I told him what was wrong with you. He said something about how his older sister had a similar condition, left the room, and came back with those."

_Oh my god. I'm such a burden! I feel like shit._ I shook my head at him, and laughed lowly, tears welling up in my eyes; this man, this kind and gentle person. Mrs. Donberg shrugged at the crumpled up man, carelessly dozing away. She looked at me, "What have you eaten today, Mae?"

I looked toward the floor, "I don't think I have eaten yet today." She crossed her arms and the pile of a man stirred slightly.

He opened his eyes, which were facing my direction. He smiled in relief, "There you are."

I smiled goofily, "Here I am."

Mrs. Donberg asserting attention sighed loudly, "Mae, you are going to put yourself in a coma if you don't eat. Did you know that Luke? She hasn't eaten at all today!"

He sluggishly sat up, rubbing his eyes, "No?" he looked at me, "You haven't?" I shrugged, still frail. He leaned over to open the water bottle, twisted the cap, and handed it to me. He shook it unsympathetically in front of me. I shyly took it and he grabbed the poptarts, opened them, and handed them to me. In one hand there was a poptart, the other the bottle of water. He stared at me, severely, waiting for me to eat. I took a bite of the pastry and a mouthful of water. Mrs. Donberg shook her head laughing to herself and walked out of the room. I continued to eat the poptarts, my Professor's face never letting up. I finished them off and drank half of the bottle of water.

Feeling refreshed I smiled gently at him, blushing slightly, "Thank you Professor. I really don't know how to thank you."

He sighed calmly, "I am just happy you are alright. You scared me so much. I thought I was…" He lost composure for a minute, his words fumbled apart.

Sat up straight and shook my head, "This happens to be more than you think. I really am careless!" I laughed pleasantly and his cold listless eyes sparked brightly again.

He took away my trash to throw it out and sat back down on his chair at my bedside. "Why did you carry me?"

Caught off guard by this question he uttered some indistinguishable noises and finally projected, "There wasn't any other way to get you here, so it made sense."

The distance between the building where his office was and the administration building where we are now is a good 15 minutes by foot. _Imagine running all that way? With someone weighing you down?_ "You ran though."

He nodded, "I was…I didn't…" He closed his eyes, head bent to the ground, and smiled dimly. I furrowed my brow, and searched the room feverously. He tilted his head, "What are you looking for? You're stuff is in the main room."

I sighed, "Don't do that to me! You never separate a woman from her bag!"

He giggled, "Why did you want it?"

"My phone. Can't keep it in my pockets if I have…"

Just then I looked down at my skirt that was laughing at me. _He picked me up and carried me while I was wearing a skirt? Oh man, he probably saw my panties for all I know! _He walked out of the room suddenly, my face creeping hotter in temperature. He came back with my bag in hand, held it to me; I took it and searched it for my phone. _The time: 7:01, messages missed: 4, missed calls: 1. _My mother called me probably to ask me when I needed to be picked up. My car was in the shop again. _Jeeze she is in her bath already, I have to call a cab or something._ I sent her a quick message not to be worried, that I found a way home. I don't want her to have to be concerned when this big loon is already worried enough.

"You're so silly, you know that?"

He looked oddly at me, "What do you mean, Mae?"

I placed my phone on the table, "I didn't ask you to get my bag, carry me to the nurse, give me extra help, or worry about me." I closed my eyes with a mild chuckle, "I mean, how can you be so…" His eyes brimming with wonderment, almost to the brink of tears, a soft peachy hue popping onto his face, he leaned toward me, arm out stretched, brushing the side of my cheek carefully, his fingertips gliding smoothly against my sensitive skin, catching most of my chestnut hair between his long nimble fingers, he scoops the follicles placing them behind my ear, traces the side of my jaw, straight down to the tip of my chin, keeping some strands entwined around his digits.

His motions spoke to me, more clearly than anything he could ever verbalize: "_I think you know why."_


	13. Chapter 13: Heart

Chapter 13:

_Heart_

My heart pounded longingly in my ribcage. He reclined his hand careful not to tug my hair, and sat back chipper and alert. I left my amazed face on for a bit and it melted away to a playful silly frown.

He glanced at his watch and nodded wistfully, "Looks like it is getting late. Would you mind if I walked you to your car? I don't want you to mysteriously faint on the way!" He winked mischievously at me and I giggled, unsure of what to say.

I shrugged, "Well, my mom dropped me off today, so I am going to call a cab."

He crumpled his lips and shrank his eyebrows, "There is no way I am allowing you to call a cab. How far away do you live?"

I looked up at the ceiling, "About twenty minutes away, if you drive like I do!" I chuckled but he was completely firm.

He raised his pointer in the air, "Idea!" he shouted in sing song, "Why don't I give my princess a ride." With his last few remarks he took my right hand in his, imitating the touch of nobility.

I giggled sweetly, "Oh no, you don't have to do that! You already did so much for me! I would feel horrib-"

"I insist! It would be my pleasure."

He bobbed his head once and I sighed in defeat, "Okay, I don't see why not."

He held my hand as I rose wobbly out of the bed, tripping over the leg of one of the instruments in the room. He caught me gracefully in his arms, and pulled me close to him, "Now I really wouldn't trust you driving anywhere!" I sarcastically nodded and grabbed my bag and jacket. He fixed his jacket and took his shoulder bag on his right shoulder, leaving his left exposed. "Thank you Mrs. Donberg for your help."I gratefully expressed while she shook her head, "Play nice you two!"

We left the building and hit the cold pavement. I shuddered at the chill and he shook his left shoulder to me, "Here, lean on me for support if you feel like you are getting dizzy." _No one sane would deny that invitation._ I waited about thirty seconds before I wrapped my arm around his, leaning into him a bit. I felt surprisingly naughty; I didn't think something like this would affect me so much. _Does he really care for me that much?_ We walked along together in a swaying rhythm. I noticed how long his strides are compared to mine. It would make sense, his are longer than mine, but I felt like I had to drag him back to my stride.

I didn't worry about it at the moment. "Thank you Professor for giving me a ride home. I feel like I'm a bit of a burden."

He hummed oddly, I looked up at him, "No, it really is no trouble. Are you uncomfortable calling me by my first name?"

His question was heavier than it sounds, as if he was asking me if I feel awkward, or if he makes me feel awkward when I'm around him.

Immediately my voice shot up to him, "No! No, not at all. I just am not used to it I guess, Professor."

He shook his head, "Perhaps in time." He shrugged coolly, "I can assure you…" Without skipping a beat he peered down at me impishly, "…you will get accustomed to it." I held my breath at his last statement. His voice was silkier, more seductive than before. I giggled to myself, tightening the grip of my arm in his. I noticed how his breath came longer than usual, his speech hanging in the air with a sense of longing.

We approached the teacher parking lot, he rummaged through his pockets for his keys, breaking the entwinement of our limbs. He pulled out a keychain with a key, clicker, and a small flicker of pink and purple caught my eye. I tried to focus on the dangling chain and made out a twisted shape. _Why would he have than on his key ring? What is it? _I followed close behind him, bobbing my head to meet his hand. He stopped before a car, but I kept walking, trying to make out the object. I crashed straight into the hood of his car. He held my back to ensure I didn't fall backward, "Watch out there! I leave you alone for two seconds!"

I regained my footing and laughed at myself, "I'm really a wreck!" I looked down at his car, it was a silver Toyota Corolla, _kind of new…I guess it's about a '09 or an '10_. He walked around the car, opened the doors with a click of his remote, and opened my door for me. He gestured for me to enter the vehicle; I curtsied and sat on the black fabric. It smelled like vanilla. The scent of toasted marshmallows pierced my nose sweetly. I placed my bag on the floor before me and discreetly checked the back seat. It was covered in scattered papers and books, not as bad as my car, but it had, visibly, over 10 different notebooks, papers spilling out from each one. _At least I'm not the only untidy one. I can't really expect any more from a bachelor. _I looked over to the driver's side; my Professor opens the door cautiously and slides inside.

He looks at the back seat, "Oh man, sorry about that."

I smiled, shaking my head, "You should really see my car!"

He hummed lightly and reached in the back seat, a large black leather binder in his hand. He holds it in front of me, "Here pick one." Curiously I take the portfolio and skate open the zippers on the side. It had a plethora of CDs inside, tucked away behind little walls of plastic; each one had its respected paper flap to illustrate which tracks were on each CD. They were alphabetically categorized: Abba, Adam Ant, Alley Kerr, The Beach Boys, The Beatles…I decided to choose _The White Album_ and picked it daintily between my finger tips. He glanced at my decision, smiling in approval. He glides his key into the ignition, the piece of lilac synthetic shuddering with the jerk to the right. He took the plastic disk, ejected the previous CD, took the case from my lap, and placed it in its correct home: _Out of the Blue, _Electric Light Orchestra. He then exchanged the case for the CD in my hand, "Thank you" he purred and slid it into the slot. He turned the volume down somewhat, _Blackbird_, radiating shallowly through the speakers. "So, where do you live?"

"Oh right! I'm about three towns over, south of here."

"Which town?"

"Marville"

"Which one is that?"

"It's between Berkaust and Sherrport"

"Oh right, Sherrport, which direction is it from that one?"

"It's east of it, I can just give you directions how to get there, I mean it really is just one right down Main St. and a left down Fawst Ave."

"Oh, alright, whatever is easiest for you to direct."

"It really should be about you, you are driving after all. Is that easiest for you."

"That's fine, now which entrance is the best to exit from."

"The main one is fine" I smiled cheerfully into him as he eagerly tapped his steering wheel to the beat of _Dear Prudence. _We sang along energetically together, his singing voice much superior to my own, but I didn't care. We could drive endlessly into oblivion and I wouldn't flinch in the slightest. Nothing can destroy this beautiful moment. We bounded down Main St. like bats out of hell, breezing through every malicious traffic light; only one of them snagged waited, at the light without opposing traffic. "I mean, really. I would be okay with it if there was at least one guy who needed to turn, but this just isn't fair!" We happened to be stopped at the most ridiculous light on the road, and I was enjoying my Professor's adorable road rage. He was holding his fingers through his hair in one hand and his other tapped mercilessly on the brim of the steering wheel. I could hear the soft thumping of his left foot against the floor of the looked over at me, embarrassed for his poor demeanor, "Oh uhm…I guess I'm not the most patient driver!"

I snorted, "That's an understatement!" He smirked goofily and the light magically turned. We sped off again, _While My Guitar Gently Weeps_ playing sorrowfully, my Professor humming the guitar solos. His vocal vibrations tenderly tricked my ears into submission, nothing existed but his voice; not the music, not the roar of the engine, not my own heart beat. He is a careful driver, making sure not to stop short when some asshole cuts in front of him, or speed off too quickly from a stop sign. He was also surprisingly generous, letting people in front of him whenever he could without upsetting the person behind him. _He's so insightful, so kind. _We started a smooth conversation about different stores we passed. I was too busy examining his features while he talked and drove at the same time. It seemed like second nature to him, when I drive I usually cannot keep an in depth conversation because I am too fixated on the road. He would strangely switch driving hands so frequently, while he was talking to act out some of his points; it almost looked as if he were dancing.

We were nearing my street in no time at all. _It seems my lovely paradise has to end sometime._ I told him to turn left at the next light and he paused, "You mean this street?" I nodded keenly, "Yup tha-"

"Is there any other way?"

I hesitated, music fading away from my ears, "Why?"

He stopped at the light, "I just can't! Is there any, other, way?" His tone was somber and temperamental; his voice forceful and short. He didn't even look at me, his eyes straight against the road; they were bitter and mysterious. He was a mix of irritation and apprehension. This was a side of him I was not used to, it terrified me. I recalled the chat with Charlotte at the café, but this emotion was much graver than that.

Like a deer in headlights I responded with a weak, "Yeah, just make the next left..."

He sighed dejectedly, "Thank you."

The rest of the ride was silent other than my guiding interjections. He pulled into my driveway; put it in park with a short puff of breath. He turned to me, I was still facing forward, still shocked at his raised speech. I felt like a child who just got yelled at. I timidly faced him, a disappointed frown stretched across his charming lips. Without breaking eye contact he shut the car off, twisted the key out, and brought the key to his other hand; which fondled the pink plastic lanyard twist familiarly. He opened his mouth, only to look down at the ribbon of plastic. My shocked face melted to concern, I couldn't see his face, and I wanted to see what he was thinking. _Let me in Professor._

A long trail of air echoed out from his chest, a deep huffing breaking the silence. A sniffle. A stifled breath. My chest sank; eyes stung. He clung onto that lanyard, fingers tracing the outline of its memorized shape; the tails of it were worn to tiny bits. At one time I supposed it was a fish of some kind, only the shell of it remained. My arm slowly lifted onto the shrunken shoulder of my trembling Professor, my kind Professor, my princely Professor. He lunged over to me, grasping my back with his left arm, lanyard in his right, his head buried on my shoulder. He wasn't pitiful, nor was he shameful. He was human; my human. I held onto him, and he hardly made a noise. His breathing seemed to be the only uncommon attribute, that and his shuddering body. After some time, after his breathing dissipated, we parted; but only slightly.

He whispered a foot or so from my face, "This was my dear Amber's." The lanyard shining softly, glowing iridescently. "She would have been ten this year." I exhaled sharply, taking in all his sorrow and my own. "She was my little angel, even though I never got to meet her."

Tears struck my cheeks instantly; no noises, only the light pitter of droplets against fabric, almost like the sound of snow falling. "Her mother and I had a house on that street, a fire broke out, and they say it was a faulty gas pipe, but I don't believe it." I held my mouth with my right hand. "I'm sorry for seeming ill-tempered before. I just haven't been on that street since." He looked painfully up at me, my face streaked with tear stains. He wiped the tears away from the right side of my face, "Please don't pity me. I have spent enough of my life grieving, if you can call it a life. I want to live again. To be able to feel free and happy, to feel love again." He delicately held my left hand in his. "Life once again has purpose for me, a new door has opened." I smiled, only to sob once more.

Through my breaths I sighed, "I'm so sorry, Professor. I had *hic* no idea, you just seem so ha*hic*ppy all the time."

He hushed my blubbering, bringing me closer to him, his lips to my ear, whispering, "It's okay now." He smoothed my hair down and I craved nothing more than to believe him, to believe that his pain all disappears because he wills it away. I finally slowed my breathing and we separated. He felt my hair between his fingers smiling comfortably, powerlessly.

He withdrew his arm and I leaned back, creating some space between us. "Quite a night hasn't it been, Mae?"

I tenderly whispered, "I guess you can't call it anything but miraculous." He repeated the word 'miraculous' in a whisper to himself between his grinning, proud lips. Looking at the clock on his dashboard: 7:58.

He smiled at his clock, "I guess I'll walk you up, then."

I protested, "No, you don't have to, I've got legs you know, Professor." No use, he was already opening my door from the outside. I sighed and stepped out, he shut it behind me. We meandered as sluggish as we could up the extensive walkway to my front porch.

"Wow, this sure is a nice house."

I shrugged, "I guess, it's old, so there is a lot of work that needs to be done, Professor."

He flinched, stopped walking, I turned to him, and he leaned down to look me straight in the eye, "It's okay to say it. It won't hurt, I promise." He stayed there, patiently searching my face for a reaction. I stood, stupefied, in front of this strange man.

"Say what?" I whimpered softly.

His look was ardent, unwavering; almost patronizing. "Say my name."

Sensitivity thumping vociferously against my ribs, blood scorching through my veins, I searched for the courage to utter his name without sounding erotic. His face stagnant, eyes slightly mischievous. _Trying to stir up trouble? On my front lawn!_ I gulped forcefully, trying to make his name sound as clear as possible, for my ears as much as his own.

"Luke. Professor Luke Kelly."

I grinned roguishly and his face brightened like a sunrise in summer. "There she is, striking as ever." He whispered with a dreamy sigh. I wanted to curl up and live in that sigh. We stepped on my porch, the door two feet in front of us, I looked down at my bag, searched extensively for my keys, and a great ball of jingling racket emerged from my bag. He chortled at the decorative use of soda can tabs as indicators.

I went to unlock the door when his voice tenderly wisped, "I have a gift for you."

I turned quickly towards him, eyes lit up, "What is it, Lu-?"

His smile warmed at the sound of his name, and leaned toward me as I was turning in his direction. His face met mine at a discomfited position. His intentions were to rest his lips upon my cheek but as fate would have it; my face turned too swiftly and caught his lips at the end of my cheek, almost grazing where my own lips were. He planted the small peck upon my lip/cheek region and I huffed, feeling indignant of a real lip kiss or a real cheek kiss. I crossed my arms, "Hey, that's cheating." He blinked slowly in confusion. "Here, I'll give you a second chance; I won't even budge this time."

I stood still and closed my eyes, waiting for him to make his move. I could feel his eyes on me, examining my stance and my face. I made my breath as shallow as possible to be able to specify where he was. I heard him take a step forward, so I took a step back, pressing myself against my burgundy front door. I felt him hestitate before me, his being just inches away from mine. My palms started to sweat as they slid against the cold wooden entrance. I needed to hold onto something or I was sure to float away, or wake up from this wondrous dream. My pulse quickened, innards quaked. My knees had to be trembling horribly under the weight of my heart. A hand grazed the side of my arm up to my shoulder, rolling against my cloth on my body, sliding against my tender neck, tracing the curves underneath my jaw, resting on the back of it, softly entangled in my hair; fingers nipping at the edge of my earlobe, gliding over the skin of my cheek, a curiously scintillating thumb peruses my lips, I part my mouth slightly, it searches the extent of my lips, descends below my chin, the hand raises my whole face lovingly. I felt the presence of his face before mine, teasing my shuddering pants of air, another hand swoops in, and caresses the other half of my face endearingly. A little gasp…


	14. Chapter 14: Reflections

Chapter 14

_Reflections_

Never have I felt more relaxed, more in tuned with my own synchronized heartbeat to my breathing patterns. I could not remember my own name, or the place in which I stood. The only true elements of non-fiction in this reality were the stinging icy breeze, the two warm benevolent molds which fondly elevated my face into the air, and the unbelievable craving to lift my lids. The disinclination in my Professor's actions was insufferable. At last, an unsteady trail of air licked my rosy face. The scent of chilly mint entered my nose, my heart leaping at the lovely fragrance.

_Please._

My lips separated cautiously, anticipating collision with another pair. My body shrank against the door, limp in his powerful hands. The light sound of his inhalation brought me over the edge into a sharp high. My mind morphed into an undistinguishable state; darkness and pleasure consuming my essence completely. The featherlike brush of his nose to mine in a steady angle, his breath reached out to dust my lips lightly. He opened his mouth with an indulgent whimper, his sensitive succulent flesh tickled against mine, just teasing my nerves unbearably. I exploded, impatient and hungry; I rose onto my toes gently, forcing his lips harder on mine. I was greeted by a surprised hum; I extended my arm up to his sleeve, and gripped the material of his coat within my four fingers, bringing his body even closer to mine. _You only have clout over me for so long, Luke. _He had to stabilize himself by taking one of his hands off my face and hold it against the door, at an elegant eighty degree angle. I nibbled at him deliberately; each small push towards him sent my heart into frenzy. This one osculation is more pleasurable than anything I have ever experienced within my whole life. I felt wicked, powerful, and satisfied…for now.

* * *

><p>Mae had never been too successful with dating other people. No one seemed to be as serious with her as she was with them. Getting used a couple of times made her a little bitter.<p>

* * *

><p>I never wanted to leave his lips, this taste, so smoky and clever. I opened my eyes just to peek at his marvelous face. His eyebrows lifted and slanted in desperation, his eyes softly closed, focused on reciprocating my yearning. My eyes rolled back in bliss, shutting them tightly, a small vibration escaping out my throat. We only pursed together about five times, the act itself only lasting about a minute. I loved the way his lips bounced off of mine, symbiotically feeding off each other's energy. Reluctantly I let him lift his face from mine, opening my eyes onto his echoing pools of blue hue, specks of golden flecks shined dazzling through the watery complexion. He beamed cutely down at me, bringing his hand away from my face and onto the side of my hair, running his fingers through my locks, "Where did you learn that?" He cooed lovingly.<p>

I giggled innocently, bringing my lips up to his ear, "Looks like I need to teach you a few things." I released my hold on his coat and he withdrew himself backward, a distance of one and a half feet between us now.

"Thank you for everything tonight, Mae." A heartfelt chuckle escaped him.

I grinned, "It was truly my pleasure, Luke." He swooped into me, raising my chin with the outside of his pointer finger, and placed a gentle peck on my lips.

In retreating he uttered in a whisper, "I can't get enough of you saying my name."

I batted my eyelashes adorably, "Then you will be hearing more of it in the future."

He smiled genuinely in agreement, "I hope so." He stepped backward, waving his hand, "Goodnight, my Mae."

I picked up my free hand, waving it simultaneously, "Goodnight, my Professor."

He gave me a mocking grin and bowed humbly, "Adieu!"

I watched achingly as his metal vessel reversed out from my driveway and glided down the street, every second his vehicle vanishing from my sights. Traveling farther and farther away from my grasp, and I slowly felt my hold on reality slipping simultaneously. The certainty of knowledge surrounding the present events that unraveled tonight troubled me_. How can it be factual that this existence is possible? Probable? No, my Professor would never partake in such sensual events with one of his students. Would he? He seemed as though he was nervous. _The thought of his trembling breath came to mind. _It is just nerves. It boils down to a science; we are both mutually (inexplicably) attracted to one another. Is it so taboo to share this reciprocated emotion? If I were any other twenty year old woman, not his student, not even going to the same college in which he teaches, would it be as wayward? How can I be so critical on myself when there are people my age and younger participating in more depraved actions? I am letting, for once, my sexuality to explore outside of my own mind. _

This abrupt realization, the key in my hand turning to crack the lock of the wooden door turned the key in my thought process. A mental click opened the Pandora's Box into a depth of my psyche never explored; the hidden fragment of Mae that had been buried away; deep from the lights of day. Like a whisper. Like a tickle. This new vision contaminated everything I touched, everything I have ever known, everything I have ever experienced; bringing these things into a whole new shadow. The dangerous cloud of novel knowledge casted a twisted grin upon my face. I closed the door behind me with a tiny grunt. I sank back onto the wood, back straight up against the door, legs at a one-hundred and eighty degree angle, still smirking, a sly whisper slid down my lips, "I could get used to this."

Wisps of worry still swirled around my core, feeding off these inflated elated emotions. They jabbed into me, _"What if he thinks you are not scholarly enough for him?" "Why would he be interested in something like you, what have you got to offer someone like him?" "How far are you willing to do, to delve into the darkness?" "You gonna fuck him, for real?" "Or are you just going to start to fantasize about you two together, so simpleminded of you!" "You should just give up now; you have his kiss, what more do you want from him?" "You after his money?" "You after his car?" "His house?" "His soul?"_ Each of these voices multiplied, growing more vicious and ruthless by the minute. The nagging that was tearing me apart wouldn't cease to be, it was always there, no matter what I chose to do. Whether it is the decision of what to eat for dinner: _"Do you like the idea of stretch marks?" "Your clothes won't fit anymore" "Your eating habits are expensive!" _ Or if I am walking to class: _"Why do you waddle when you walk?" "It's pathetic!" "Your hair looks ridiculous in the wind." "Who do you think you are dressing like that?" "A supermodel?" "__**Fat**__ Chance!" "No one really wants to be your friend, they all hate you." "Your family doesn't actually love you." "If you were gone, their lives would be easier." _

I usually try to pay them no mind, but this time they were genuine concerns for my situation. I usually shut them up with a daydream or a, _"Who are you to judge?" "I can do what I see fit." "It's time I treat myself, and I like the way I dress!" _I was at a loss how to deal with these questions. I sat on my floor, legs straight in front of me. _I guess I could call Charlotte._ I rummaged through my bag for my phone and hit send twice. After about four rings she finally picked up, "Yo, Mae! Could I call you back? I'm on the phone with Jasmine. Okay, bye."

I held the silent object to my ear contemplating my next course. _Jasmine? Of course…that bitch. _Jasmine was Charlotte's best friend; I have no sympathy for her because I never had a 'best friend'. Finally dropping my phone onto my carpet, I reached on top of my bed for my laptop, started it, and opened my document. I recorded the events that transpired and all my questions for myself. Each was neatly assembled in bullet point format. I smiled at my neat handy work, taking pride in one of the only structured elements in my life. I felt slightly hollow for treating him in this way, like he is some lab experiment and I am taking observations in his progress. I closed my eyes, rolled backwards onto my floor, and my stomach churned. I held it with one of my hands and opened my eyes. _To the kitchen, I guess._ I flopped over on my side, and then in some miraculous fashion, projected myself up onto my two feet. _Didn't know I had that much energy._ I finally unfastened my jacket and slipped it off my shoulders. I felt the mass of it in my hands, the textile spilling through my fingers, kneading it gently. _He felt this coat; he was over me when this coat was on my body. _Eagerly I lifted the jacket up to my face, inhaling, searching for his musk. My search halted at the collar, just above the shoulder, a faint scent of him captivated me. It took me over in a rush of euphoria; a shiver casted down over me, over the length of my whole body. A flurry of tremors bred inside my stomach; it was the hunger.

I poured a cauldron of cereal, and shoveled it into my face. _I guess I was starving._ I polished off the whole massive bowl, bringing it into the dishwasher. I poured myself a glass of iced tea and retreated back into my room, without the disturbance of any other family members. _Are they even home? _I checked the driveway and my mother's and my step father's car were both gone. I shrugged and aloofly headed back upstairs. I tore off my clothes in the bathroom, my awkwardly fleshy being standing in front of me. I started the water, plugged the drain, flipped the radio on, and waited for the tub to fill with hot water. I kept glancing at my reflection from all angles, _"How can someone as fit as him learn to love your lumpy body?" _ It already started. Even before I ripped my clothes off and gawked at my useless shape. I shook my head; _He will love me for who I am, what I look like won't matter. A little diet wouldn't hurt though. But I do need to eat._ Puffs of steam coated the reflective glass, shielding the offending image from my eyes. _This is me. I have to love it; it is just the way my cards were dealt is all._ The tub was halfway full, I stepped one foot into the water, and the jolt of heat numbed my extremity. I attempted to crouch in the water, underestimating the temperature; I leapt up from it, the singeing water biting my skin. "Fuck, fuck! Shit!" Leaping into the air, I threw myself out of the basin with a thunderous crash. My elbow flung into the metal towel rack, shooting various grey and black towels all over the interior of the bathroom; one washcloth landing in my water. I yanked the cloth out, scorching hot liquid flung everywhere, and I adjusted the water by adding some cold water to the lava. I turned my head to the mirror once more, my image almost completely askew, but I could make out the sweat on my face, my wild mane knotted in the fray, and the supreme splendor my image possessed. In this light, I loved the way my body was, so vibrant and raw. Perhaps this is what he sees, this rare part of me.

I sat on the toilet, listened to the water pour incessantly, and the sappy love song that trickled through the radio. My eyes closed, focused on the bubbly waterfall next to me when a sharp noise startled me. I instantly shut off the faucet and radio trying to pinpoint the sound. The distinct chime of bells rang through the house. _Clare._ "She should be fucking happy Mom isn't home…coming home so late, again!"

I grabbed the largest towel, threw it around me, opened the bathroom door and started down the hallway. "Ugh, she should keep her keys in her bag like I do…not in her pocket where they can get lost…COMING!"

The bells rang again and I shuffled down the stairs, my towel almost flying off. I stood in front of the door contemplating how to chastise her this time. I flung the door open, bare tits in the towel resting under my arm, closed my eyes and shouted, "Clare! This is the last time I will ever be doing this!" I opened them.

It wasn't Clare.

It wasn't Clare at all.

It was the opposite of Clare.

My Professor Kelly stood in front of me, flabbergasted, books in hand. A long screech cried out of me and I slammed the door in his face. _What?...wait…NO!_ I opened the door, a tiny crack, and then quickly introduced more space between the door and the frame. I finally got back to where we were before, "I am so sorry! I thought you we-"

I was interrupted by howling laughter, his shape bent in half, arms crossed over his chest in ecstatic agony. I sarcastically glared at him, my bare foot tapping on the wood floor. I patiently waited for him to regain his composure, breathing between heaves "My god! Was that unexpected!"

I shifted my towel nervously and my voice impatiently monotone, "I guess I can say the same."

The cutting draft carved into my exposed legs and the top of my chest, leaving my body to quiver against it. "Oh shit, you must be freezing! Can I come in?" I nodded and moved aside while my Professor stepped through the threshold into my home.


	15. Chapter 15: SemiExposed

Chapter 15

_Semi-Exposed_

I led the both of us into the kitchen, very aware of my situation, and not knowing how not to fuck it up. _He's totally checking out my ass, isn't he?_ I held the corner of the towel with my right hand, securing the loose fabric. I asked politely if he wanted some water, he inclined, and carefully took two glasses out of the cupboard; my towel barely staying on, my elbows pinning it against my body. I filled up both glasses, returning to the table, gesturing for him to sit, and gave him his glass. I cheerfully sighed at his glass and took a small sip. He is nervous. His thumb shaking somewhat, trying to hold the glass to his quaint quivering lips. I brought my own to mine but my eyes were lingering on his; how his eye lids dipped a bit down on each small intake of liquid, his lips curled charmingly around the edge of the cup. I can only imagine how his tongue is flicking inside to the new cold sensation. How I envied that water, trickling into his mouth with ease, I wish I could be that fluid. In my daydreaming my towel slid smoothly down the front of me, exposing more skin than is to my liking in this situation; not my breasts completely, but almost halfway down, skimming the nipple region. I looked down to my glass, back at him, his eyes were aimed lower, and I looked at myself, awkwardly shuffling my towel to its appropriate height.

He proceeded to stand up, step over to me, and in one flowing action; removed his jacket, placing it on my shoulders, rubbing them lightly. I parted my lips, words escaping my reach. He sauntered over back to his chair, in his all white/cream ensemble; like an angel gracing my presence. His accessories were ebony, belt and shoes; they matched the fabric draped on my shoulders and around my body. I felt like a conniving demon in black, and he, a graceful ivory seraph. I adjusted the jacket over my frigid skin, welcoming the heat of the thick cloth. "Thank you, I was a bit chilly." _That's twice you've done that now._

He gave me an uneasy smile, and glanced to his water. "What's wrong, Luke?" He couldn't fight the pervasive grin lifting from the side of his mouth when my voice pronounced his appellation. Then the light faded from his face, and he opened his shaky mouth, only for a parade of jostling syllables to crash out of. My face tensed up, the direness in his inflection bludgeoned my cochlea. Every muscle in my body obeyed to stay perfectly still, frozen in time, anticipating his articulately full idea. I did not breathe, nor did I blink. I was an exact mannequin of impeccable posture. A small tinge in the side of my brain pleaded me to interrupt his train of thought, to derail it so I may never know what unpleasantly grave idea he harnesses.

My curiosity proved to be the stronger foe, my bare toes eagerly danced underneath the table on the cold laminate floor. I wished not to know the burden of dreadful news, I only cared for his acknowledgment of the events that transpired this night…to have the security that it was not a figment of an elaborate façade. He cleared his throat to attempt speech yet again. The heat on my shoulders prominently asserting my attention, the thoughtfulness in his gestures made my fondness for him grow exponentially, but the threat of a little four letter word was looming over my head like a black vulture anticipating my inevitable demise. He laced his cool fingers, and then unlaced them, placing his palms flat on the wooden surface, and then balling them up. An odd amount of anxiety seemed to grip my Professor before me, I made a note of how his nostrils twitched when he inhaled, how fast his oculus searched his own fingers for the words he has yet to grasp, and the most arresting feature of nervousness yet: his lips were pursed in an awful angle which sent my heart into a seizure.

The tension of the situation almost drove me to insanity. He closed his eyes on me, opened them lightly," I have a feeling…" My face lifting in the direction of the squeaky sound. He closed his eyes again, searching for the wording, "…a feeling that what happened tonight…" I contemplated suicide. At least then I would be getting somewhere, even if it is hell. "…was a fortunate mistake…fortunate…" His mouth tugged at the word 'fortunate', tossing it around within itself, trying to get the weight of such a word.

I crossed my arms over the dry sheet on my skin, "Mistake?" I softly corrected, "You mean it was unintentional?" My voice was, surprising to me, very calm and analytical, even though my perfect fascia was failing somewhat. I was determined to try to convince him otherwise. It seems as though he has had ample time to arrive at such conclusion, which tore my defense wide open.

He slipped more water into his mouth and replaced the glass, "Yes, it was. It is an interesting attribute that I never thought I possessed; to react on impulse alone." _And I wasn't helping one bit._ _He could have pulled away; he could have stopped me, why do I feel like he is blaming me?_

The way his words burst out of his throat, it seemed almost whimsical. I was unsure if he was in jest, the uneven footing of my words proved my point, "Impulse. I never knew you had that in you as well, I suppose." _That sounded way more puckish than I meant it to. _I sought after the ray of hope in his speech: he didn't sound regretful for his actions. He raised one eyebrow at me, satirically and let out a chuckle. I frowned quirkily at my statement, unsure on the delivery. _Well, he is twenty or so years my senior._

He waved his hand flippantly, "Not like that. I guess I didn't realize how much…" His voice stammered to a halt, fighting complete awkwardness. His hands rested on his glass, the heat forming replica hand prints of condensation on the clear walls. His legs shifted pensively underneath our shared table, the want for his legs to graze past mine echoed throughout my nerves. "…I have wanted…"The quaint ripple of a smile fondled its way to the corner of his mouth. His eyes were not so kind, gazing into the unblemished liquid they were noticeably foreboding. I was unsure if his eyes were tense because of the shame brought on when taking a girl to be your lover, or if he had something more to say about our moment together. He caught my eyesight, and held it gently within his eyes. He seemed strangely content as to how his sentence floundered; like he had an odd sense of pride attached to his language of disarray. It must have reflected how he is feeling.

An instinctive churning in my stomach communicated to my brain that this could potentially turn very precarious very quickly. There was no one home. I had no idea where my family was…I had no fucking idea where my family was. How could I be so naive? Alone, with this man, who is twice my size, semi-naked in my kitchen? This could bode horribly for me. _Don't panic Mae…do you know where your phone is? Shit! It's in the bathroom. It's okay…they should be home any minute. You are okay. You are home. You are safe. _I focused on the man in front of me, my leg shaking due to my sudden realization.

He curiously looked down at it, "Are you nervous, Mae?"

His voice resembled genuine compassion, but my mind wouldn't let be believe it. A simple statement of benevolence turned into the twisted question in a game I was reluctantly unaware I was partaking. His jacket over my shoulders posed as this enormous onyx cloud consuming me without my consent. I began to resent his small gesture of tenderness, even though the cold was somewhat unbearable itself. In this moment, I let it all go. I accepted my situation and decided to play it by ear. I wouldn't rush into anything that could threaten me in any way, my senses sharpened and my awareness awakened. Ignorance decided to embrace me once again, and those horrid thoughts seemed to dissipate slowly.

I shook my head, "No, I am just anticipating what you are about to say next." My childlike chipper voice sent a chill over my dermis. His smile was uncontrollably adorable; I wished to keep that smile in my memory forever.

He straightened himself in his chair, "Well, I am afraid I cannot be so cheerful. You see…I am not so sure how to go about this. This sort of thing." He pointed a long finger to him and then me and then back to him. He leaned back in his chair, "It is so difficult, Mae. I am not sure if I want to pursue…or just chalk up to our moments as blind luck." _If our luck is blind, than my adoration is blind. _

I hastily shot myself forward over the table top, my elbows sliding over the polished wood, underarms still gripping my towel somewhat, "No, you can't just hand it over to luck. This isn't luck." I mimicked the same gesture as he performed previously.

He looked yearningly into me, "I wish that were true. I do believe that something has brought us together, something a bit more…mysterious." _I think the word you are looking for is heinous. _I breathed in wondrously. I wanted to ask him what his fondness for me was, to ask him how far his passion could reach me; how could someone like him ever even look at a person like me. I ached to know the truth: how does he feel for me? _C'mon, it isn't that hard. Just ask him. What's the worst that could happen? He turns you down and you jump off a building…well that is pretty terrible at any rate. Just fucking do it._

I closed my eyes to prepare for a preordained onslaught and inhaled sharply, "Why?" _Really? That is the best you can do? _I readjusted myself in my seat, "I mean, why did you…" I felt as if the rest of the sentence was self-explanatory but his dopey face stared at me blankly. I rolled my eyes in exasperation, "You do realize how hard it is to say something like this."

He reached out and grasped my hand delicately, "Go ahead."

I drank his words like a loose potion that would speed up my speech without shame in my part. I licked my lips and started again, "Why did you decide this? Why me?" My voice resonated at a melancholy note, a fiber of pining woven into the words. He grazed my thumb between his pointer and thumb, giving a low chuckle. He smiled. It wasn't just a smile. It was a piece of him. A crevice unexplored by another human, a part of the galaxy untouched by man. I recognized his smile from the people I observe, the jovial couples on the street, walking to the pet shop, or the elderly married folk who have witnessed many hardships but always came back swinging.

_Love?_


	16. Chapter 16: Doubt

Chapter 16

_Doubt_

I tried to sort out the various emotions displayed upon my Professor's face. I returned, my efforts fruitless. He started humming some words mellifluously, so soft it broke apart mid transit. I tilted the side of my face to him, trying to listen more intently. "…know it sounds like a bunch of rubbish, but I see something within you…" His face's crimson complexion begged him to cease his embarrassing monologue, but his mouth persistently pursued its noble goal, "…something I have never seen in any one before. I am drawn to this like moth to flame. I have spent many nights trying to sort out my own thoughts, in hopes of some phenomenal epiphany to cure my worries. Despite my best judgment, despite my reluctant hands, despite my advanced years; I always have to fight my thoughts away from the unique feature…"

He flicks his cavernous eyes down to his hands, which enveloped mine, and back to being fixated on my face. His voice was no more than a gentle breeze past my eardrums. The lexis he chose was so precisely crafted, smoothly handpicked for my ears alone. _Why do you think I haven't shown you the door yet? I could have easily kicked you out right when you put your jacket over me._

I peered down to his fingers, entwined with mine, "What attribute would that be?" His tangled digits winced and a petite recoil tugged one finger away from the faint touch of mine. I prepared for anything, and everything I could possibly envisage. His eyes shined lowly under the florescent bulbs from the floral hanging light fixture between us. Oh how sophisticatedly rough his fingertips were! Only the taught skin between digits harbored the silky flesh I dreamt about, the type of tissue I could imagine dwelled in other regions. In multiple realities I traced the workings of his digits with my tactful tongue, savoring every groove and marking they possessed. _This might be the worst possible time to think about this sort of shit, Mae. What the fuck is wrong with you? _

My Professor Kelly tittered, "It is your scent. It is a forlorn fragrance."

My eyebrows twitched upwards, "You are attracted to my scent?"

He laughed candidly, "Oh yes, it isn't just the physical perfume of your being, but it is more like your aura that is entrancing. It entraps me in an idiosyncratic way." The skin on my face rose in temperature, my breathing pattern slightly irregular. I hunched in my seat, completely taken aback. He abruptly helf-yelled, "Not like that's a bad thing! I have just become aware of how lonesome you are!" He puckered his mouth inwards, regretting how his words spat out. He whispered to himself, "I'm not making this any better…"

I shook my head and started laughing, "Thank you! I understand. Thank you for noticing me and my feelings." Some small giggles escaped unequivocally, his taught lips loosened into a tiny simper. I looked upwards at the lamp, "I guess I have noticed that about you too. You can be so nervous at times, you know?" I lowered my gaze back onto him; he looked strangely reluctant to speak.

I peeled his jacket from me, took his glass and mine, rose, turned around, and placed them neatly in the dishwasher. I spun around on my heels and his body, to my surprise, was in front of mine. My heart smacked hard against my ribcage, I felt it in the back of my throat. A small gurgling gasp broke through my teeth. I backed into the counter behind me, my left leg bumped into the bottom of the dishwasher, I was trapped. Just like how he was trapped within my atmosphere, I was trapped between the kitchen fixtures and him. He inched towards me, with the stealth of a wildcat, his sliding footfalls closed in on me menacingly. I was too frightened to look into his face, for fear of his arctic eyes, like an awl, piercing straight into me. I could not hear him breathing, as if he were a spirit honing in on me, maybe it was because my pulse proved too intense and overpowered my eardrums. Finally I mustered up enough courage to look up at this man who was, little by little, making his way over to me. Dread struck me like lightning in a summer storm; his features on his face were lazily strewn about, his mouth fixed in a perturbed half-smile, his eyes seeping with a primal form of hunger.

I was petrified in terror; I clung hopelessly on my towel with both hands, the only thin piece of fabric between him and his need. His right arm extended toward me, grazing the left side of my body, and rested on the counter top behind me. Soon enough, his other hand followed suit, enclosing the space around me to ensure escape was unattainable. The skin underneath his eyes lifted, distorting his craving gape into a contemptuous stare. It was an entrancing transformation; I felt one of my extremities become limp against my side, the one that wasn't loyally keeping my towel in check. Even though I was alarmed I felt bizarrely secure, like his arms wanted to shelter me. The simper on his lips deepened as if murmuring, _"That's right." _I obeyed like a good girl, standing still like I promised. I tried to hide the terror from my face, strands of it slipping through in odd intervals. "Do you trust me?" His chest pressed outwards to me, his legs lagging behind, shrinking his height to meet mine, his eyes fixated on an answer. My stiff body gave him the satisfaction he craved. His muffled chuckle taunted me without mercy; it was a sinister extension of his aching passion. A prickling sensation infested my nerves. It was partially a maddening prodding that jabbed at my lower spine. Another part of it clenched my lungs, hindering my irregular gasps of air. I did not trust him, but I didn't care. I was frantically aroused.

My hands and feet grew cold, most of my blood circulating my pelvic region. My Professor's terrorizing body drew closer to me; every centimeter intimidated me into the cabinets against my back.

_Please don't hurt me._

His right hand withdrew from my side on the counter and playfully rested on top of my hand, which was death gripping the cloth together. He sighed astonishingly and his fingers traced the outline of mine. The pointer on his hand swept across my entire paw. He took in the cold skin with a worried grin, still teasing the flesh upon my slender phalanges. His mouth opened with a mocking, "Ah..haah…" synchronized with his patronizing pointer who was dexterously working to lift mine from the fabric. It struggled a bit, and he frowned in a defensive manner. I released my pointer from my towel, he grinned gloriously in victory of his suave maneuver. I couldn't bear to look into his eyes while his fingers pried my middle finger and thumb away from my black security. I stared at his chest, which was beautifully carved and heaving steadily. The image of his shirt filling up with his breast and sinking back to hanging cloth calmed me somewhat. Only my wrist remained on my haven. My other arm that was on my side clenched the fuzzy cloth steadfast against my nude skin.

I lifted my head to his once more, his face determined and illegible, rigid on his persuasive fingers. His hand encompassed mine, and elevated it away from my body to his, my towel slipping down on my right side, the fabric skimming over the top of my breast, down the middle of it and halting at the edge of my rosy areola. He never glanced down, not even a curious flick of his eyes to the interesting skin now revealed by whimsy alone. I closed my eyes in shame of nudity, and anticipated another hand on my left arm, but no such occurrence ensued. I felt my hand in his, leave my body and touch solid warm cloth. I fluttered my eyelids open and he stood upright with my hand over the left side of his chest. I no longer felt naked in front of him. I had no shame in my bare skin. His hand in mine, over his heart, I could make out the rapid vibrations underneath. His merciless grin faded into an uncomplicated smile. His apprehension was clear through the palpitations of his speeding organ. "See? This is what your fragrance does to me." The thumping was erratic and whimsically light.

I smiled demurely, "You sure it isn't because my towel is falling?"

He laughed casually, "I hadn't noticed."

I believed him. If I have ever believed in anything in my whole life, it was this moment, it was his words. How venerable his actions were, how humble his language. As always, there was the importunate qualm setting into me, it was insistent and daunting. His touch was gentle and yet oddly unsolicited, I was unsure of his motivation, which made me timorous.

He bent a bit into me on order to alleviate my uncomfortably taught elbow, shifting his shoes closer to my bare feet. Somehow he lost his footing, and in his anxiety he tripped over my foot, and his body came crashing down on top of mine. Without hesitation my arms flung out to catch him, his left hand slid on the smooth counter. My left hand grasped his shoulder/arm region, which was still grasping my hand, which shifted to his pectoral/side; my right hand pressed on his left collar bone area. His leg bowed into the middle of mine, his other one on the other side of my left leg, straddling it without warning. I felt the immediate harmless intimate pressing of the core of his slacks into my hip. _Oh god._ An endearing yelp uttered from his throat, a startled sigh echoed out of my mouth, and my delicate material gradually dropped toward the ground, draping effortlessly over his legs.

_Oh fuck._

The dark fabric lay heedlessly around his left leg, which rested between my legs, and some of it spilled onto his other leg. My naked body pressed awkwardly into his creamy uniformly clothed mass. I shook, mortified, underneath his, sort of, stable person. My gauche Professor's head rested to the left of mine, touching mine roughly. My eyes wide on the table behind him, the air was gelid against my innocently ivory lithe skin. _I have always envisioned myself trembling underneath him, but not like this._

The darkness covered my nude body in modest shadow. My free fabric concealed my tenderness between my legs, a mischievous sprig or two of dark hair peeking through the shade; the heat from his body licked at the cold air surrounding my body, lessening the tiny goose bumps from the exterior of my arms and thighs. A choppy passage of air vibrated next to my ear, his sporadic gasps of breath charmingly danced inside my head. I couldn't fight a persistent smile that crept onto my face. I briefly repressed my embarrassment to listen to how tense he was. _Oh Professor, please lighten up._ I slithered my right hand away from him, down to the nonchalant material between us. I felt his left shoulder move, and his fingers grasped my hand, preventing the retrieval of my innocence.

He tugged my hand away from the cloth and lifted his head from mine. His face was challenging to make out in the darkness. I was able to distinguish his mouth and eyes, my neck craned somewhat upwards to meet his eyes. He brought our hands up to the counter top, my elbow resting on its surface. My intriguing Professor straightened his knees, unhurriedly withdrawing them from around my left leg, and leaned a bit backward. Panic and pure adrenaline pumped through my veins, his expression more inquisitive than ominous. My blaring nakedness flushed my cheeks aflame. The cloth tumbled to the ground, he let go of my left hand, and I attempted to shield my bare breasts from the open air, but he caught my arm and pulled it away from me sympathetically. He sincerely shook his head, pleading me to accept my nude body. I relaxed my left arm to my side and my Professor stepped away from me, my right hand still entwined with his, for support. He observed my body with an unfathomable yearning; he took in every curve, every pucker, and every ounce of flesh that he could distinguish in the darkness. I could feel the childlike sting in the corners of my eyelids, my lower lip shivering in angst. Try as I might, I could not look away from him, from his examining optics. _Don't you hate me now? Now that you see who I really am below these well rehearsed outfits? How inadequate my exterior is, how misshapen my skin is? _I grimaced at his investigation, a dejected glower hardening upon my face. My grip on his fingers tightened with every second he searched. The shadows have been considerate to me, masking some of the textures of my flawed flesh.

A delighted pulsation voiced from his throat, "You are…" He leaned back into me, bending down to lay his lips onto my earlobe, "…perfect."


	17. Chapter 17: Pleasure and Pain

Chapter 17

_Pleasure and Pain_

My eyelids fastened languorously against his hushed words. My face tilted away from his. My charming Professor's mouth nibbled tenderly on my earlobe, tugging at my skin with seductive teeth, and his lips planted a soft trail of sweet kisses down the length of my jaw. "May I?" He withdrew his fine brushings and held his right hand hovering over my skin, the heat of his palm radiated onto my bare flesh. I smiled with an ethereal sigh and he continued his fragile path, while his right hand trickled over my pale skin over the side of my ribs and below to the indent of my hip. His agile fingers rested over the angled protrusion of my pelvis, his thumb massaging soothingly into my hip bone. My body shrank, my mind numbing in pure ecstasy. My left hand propped on the edge of the counter for physical support, without it I would diminish into a heaping pile of muscle and bone upon the floor. His lips glided fluently over my skin onto the middle of my face, he paused here for a moment, his fingers on my skin sailed around to my lower lumbar, urging my hips forward, closing the gap between us, boreing mine into his. A light whimper leaked out of me in awe of the new sensation grinding against me. I could not feel any sort of extrusion from beneath his khakis. _Are you not enkindled, my clever Professor? _His adroit hand deftly slid lightly on the soft skin on my back, small circles crafted by his fingers.

* * *

><p>Mae has never once in her life felt like she was in control. Even the clothes she purchases, the people she falls in love with, the decisions she makes are inevitably not hers to make. They were never hers in the first place.<p>

* * *

><p>My left hand left the counter and shimmied up his shirt sleeve, up over his shoulder, and onto the back of his neck. My fingers walked up and down the length of it and played with his locks between them. My tips extended outwards, catching the base of his skull, pinkie sliding behind his ear, my nails sunk deep within his dark tresses; all the while his lips centimeters from mine. My littlest finger explored the folds of his auricle, he held in a breath, and his incisors seized his bottom lip in restrained arousal. With his rough exhale he released his lip, his left hand gently rolled between my lower lordosis, pressing me harder into him with every circulation. I dipped down, evading his mouth, extended my height on my toes, and tilted my head to fit my face into his neck. My left hand entangled within his hair, lips pressed brusquely against his scalene region at first, then up his neck, my mouth flickered gingerly over his earlobe and encircled the flesh within my oral cavity, my tongue faintly whipped against his sensitive skin, the hot metal of my stud dragged wickedly, his flesh tensed up at the curious new sensation, his fingers on my skin twitched unprecedentedly, my coarse breath licked his eardrums, as my lips skirmished along softly onto his lower jaw muscle. I was able to sense the tiny tremulous pressure of his pulse through the light graze of my lips.<p>

It surprised me that he was able to repress his appetite so exquisitely, even when under the spell of my unclothed self. I was in complete control over him and it felt godly. After I was satisfied with the work I had procured, I slipped back into my former position; a couple of inches away from his face. The minute I retreated from his neck I felt his body lurch forward a bit, begging for more attention. His expression no longer hid his basic human impulses; his eye lids at half mast, pupils divinely dilated, complexion a timid rose, lips slightly ajar and visibly dehydrated. It excited me to witness him at such a remarkable crossroads; he was almost at the breaking point in which basic judgment was compromised.

The shadows of the corner in which we inhabited sheltered us from the stark reality of our situation; in this darkness the line between reality and fantasy wavered. Our half of the kitchen was bathed in shimmering moonlight; it was spilling in from the rather large back door window. I was successfully concealed within the shadow, the ivory luminance flushed over my Professor's features; spilling over his face, highlighting the slope of his nose, smearing across the expanse under his eye sockets, emphasizing the concave contours underneath his cheekbones, and trickling down the two widening pieces of the middle of his jaw. It was obvious to what his desire was, but I remained abstinent; innocently awaiting his crumbling indecency.

A blinding light sprayed over us, my bones nearly leapt out of my skin. He pulled back hastily, "Your…" His eyes widened in horror, looked down at his arms entrapping my nude body. He jumped backwards, and in one swift motion, clawed at the warm cloth on the ground, smoothly wrapping me in it once again. I shot one arm out to the back door; he nodded, and ran to the table to grab his jacket. The muffled slamming of a car door rattled me into lunging into the direction of the back door. I leapt over to the handle, twisted that cold metal, swung it open, my Professor sprinted outside into the frosty air, and unsuccessfully contorted his useless jacket over his arms.

I followed him maladroitly outside whispering, "Where did you park?"

He shook his head, panting lightly, "Don't worry…I parked a bit down the street."

The patter of footsteps inside the house forced me to literally shove him out of sight from my scandalous windows. He hit softly against the side of my car-less garage, safely tucked within a playful shadow. The voices from inside migrated away from our windows, over to the ones in the front of the house, _the living room. That's fantastic…it gives me enough cover to slip inside unnoticed._ I looked away from the house, back to my askew Professor. His glasses were cutely crooked and his hair endearingly awry. I patted the loose strands back to their former position but he swiftly snatched my hand away from his hair, forcing it away from his head. _What…?_ His eyes were guilty, a hint of embarrassment lingered between the green and gold compliments.

I glanced over to my arm, that was twisted within his grasp and coaxed, "It's okay…"

He released my hand, in awe of his own movements, "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to be so harsh…"

I shook my head, "I should be apologizing for pushing you against the garage." I chucked a bit at my last few words.

He softly laughed, "I guess I was a bit on edge from that." He took my hand again, but with a bit more care.

He brought it up to his face and placed my palm onto his cheek. I stepped forward to unravel my fingers along the length of his face. _He is so warm. _A sudden wave of the chilly night swept against my hardly covered body. My feet were numb on top of the piercing gravel beside the one room structure adjacent to us. One pebble was specifically irritating; prodding incessantly into the side of my right foot. I adjusted my towel to cover myself more efficiently. I felt more at ease in front of him than any other person, even myself. I knew I could gain more knowledge about who I really am by spending more time with him, the "real me" might emerge from this new found serenity.

He inched my hand away from his face, down the outer lining of his jaw bone. He released it from his with an opening of his palm, gravity taking hold of my limb, and it fell quietly to my side.

"I should go…"

He turned somberly, the sound of his steps encumbering the gentle breeze. I watched forlornly as his shape entered the light of my house, slyly shifting to meet each shadow for cover, making a safe break to the street. Regret dripped over me like lazy hot molasses…I wish I had said something. I wish I had done something…something…anything! _I'm such a fool, standing here expecting a serenade in the fallen shadows. _

My own fingernails dug deep into the skin of the arm they were stroking for warmth. I inoperably lashed at myself, trying to penetrate my own skin. I could not feel the pain, or the satisfaction of introducing the pain myself, a type of pain I can control. The remorse shattered and a pang of self-loathing ripped through me; slicing through my skin, tearing up my muscle, my organs, and bones.I turned bravely to face the house once again…_an excuse. I need an excuse. _I looked to my side: trashcans. A grin danced wildly between my nose and chin. I took in a breath, the curtains pulled back, and I stepped forward onto the stage.

The heat embraced me as I looked at the kitchen. My eyes lulled across the small area; the refrigerator slowly sobbing, over the expanse of the counter tops, halting at the white sink, and my eyes tugged at the darkness between cupboards and counter space, _my _darkness. My top two teeth grazed my lower lip in satisfaction, and I recalled his fingers tracing my skin; a ghostly dull pressure kneaded into that region. My vision skipped the mundane rows of cabinets and rested on the table. Some movement in the corner of my eye ripped me away from my focus, my mother stood in the doorway gaping at me.

"Can I help you?" I scoffed at her rude expression and took a step forward. A tepidly moist sensation followed my footfall. _Oh man, did I step in something…_I glanced at my legs because my feet were almost indistinguishable in the darkness.

My mother let out a horrid yell, "What did you do?"

I shrugged manically, "I have no fucking clue what the hell you are talking about!"

I searched the steamy shadows around my feet for her answer. Upon closer inspection I found the shadows that my feet were encompassed in were not shadows. Shadows are not warm, wet, and ruby. Sharp digging followed my color realization.

My mother quickly shuffled over to me, "What happened?" Her steps stopped at the edge of the darkness.

My pale mouth moved simply, "I don't know…I went out to take out my trash…and I guess…"

She pulled out the chair beside me and I fell into the seat, my feet lifting a bit from the lukewarm floor; strands of crimson highlighted blackness connected the linoleum to my soles. I brought my right leg bent at ninety degrees over my left, my foot saturated and trickling onto my leg. A thick shard of glass wedged nicely into the skin of the side of my foot. _So much for a pebble. _

My mother, almost in tears, flipped the light switch, the intruding radiance stung my corneas, and she flailed in front of me, "Are you blind! Can you not turn a light on before jumping carelessly into a mound of glass?" Her arm pointed to the small stack of splinters and spikes next to the trash cans.

I gawked at the thin trail of crimson from the pile into the house, and at the puddle endorsed with my foot prints, "Why the fuck does something like that even exist!"

I carefully inspected my other appendage for damage. It was not as extreme, just some bits here and there embedded in my skin. I crack my neck back at her; she had a digital camera in hand, already snapping off some strange photos of my disaster.

"What the hell are you doing?" I tried to cover myself up, but there is only so much cover that a towel can ensure. She seemed pleased with her photography, stopping the makeshift photo op, and shouting in the other room for my step father.

He came grumbling in, and eyes widened, first at my half nakedness, and then at the situation. "We gotta go to the hospital."

He shamelessly scooped my legs into his huge arms, the other propping up my back. The fluids still oozed out from their respected gashes, painting his blue checkered shirt with Pollock precision. My whimpering mother followed close behind, she grabbed two oversized emergency next-to-the-door jackets, flung open the front door, and my sister's sheepish face greeted hers. "What are you doing here so late?...Shit, never mind, just get into the fucking car." My sister nodded, slightly in disbelief of my mother's tone, not her language anymore, and peered past my sprinting mother to my step father clutching her stained sister in his arms. My mother clicked the doors unlocked, my sister opened the door for me, rushed to her side, jumped in, and he laid me in the back seat, my head on her lap. Before the door closed and my shadows consumed me, I spotted a person standing on the street not too far from us, perhaps walking away, perhaps walking towards, but a strong feeling of recognition lingered in my mind.


	18. Chapter 18: Doctor

Chapter 18

_Doctor_

My eyelids were so heavy; fighting the urge to remain closed the entire venture. The sharp ripping pain slowly numbed into a dully blunt throbbing. My soles were propped cautiously on top of one of the jackets my mother brought; the other was wrapped around me to shield me from shame. The stains on the nether coat were promising; a challenge worthy of a well-established dry cleaner. I tore myself away from thinking of the screaming nerves in my extremities; I tried to recall the person I saw before the door barred. There was something oddly memorable about that individual; I could not focus on it no matter how I persevered. The ache proved too great a wall to climb, diminishing any strand of thought to tumbling ash.

My step father's driving was unparalleled in both danger and speed; our barreling vessel skidded into the emergency drop off strip. He parked; a tire bolstered on the curb, opened my door, removed the damp jacket, pulled at my legs until half of my body was outside the car, cradled my legs in his arm, and holstered me up in my previous position. My mother rushed over to reaffirm my towel and to zip my swimmingly bulky coat over my thin cloth and skin. My left foot no longer bled, a copious crust of burgundy surrounded every shard, and my right remained somewhat moist. He gave the keys to my sister to park, legality no longer an issue. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window of my door; _pitiful._

My mother sought out immediate attention, but we had to wait in line behind a hobbling half dead homeless man whose face was grossly engorged to the brink of bursting, tattered clothes draped along his gaunt body. Then a business woman coolly shifting weight impatiently, holding her wrist; blood seeping incessantly between her fingers, a Bluetooth permanently glued to her ear, chatting away routinely. The atmosphere was intensely calm; the staff nonchalantly giving papers to traumatically damaged people, elevator muzak echoed a bland cover of a pop song, families camping peacefully in the waiting area; not a tear in their eyes.

It was unreal.

My mother was harassing a staff member for help; the nurse pleaded the frantic woman to wait patiently in line. My step father never uttered a single syllable. His eyes keen on that front counter, to his final target. It is really daunting when he gets like this; he becomes severely taken in by a "mission", as he sees it, and will move any barrier necessary to complete his goal. I envy that drive in a person. His years of training taught him more patience than I will ever wish to achieve in my lifetime. This man can stand for hours without protest. That is proper willpower.

After the woman with the aloof self-inflicted injury left to receive her negligent stitches, my step father opened his maw, "My daughter needs medical attention. Stat." His voice was stanch, tone was strong.

The nurse fought rolling her impudent eyes, "Yes, sir. What is her name?"

I could tell the disrespect agitated him, "Mae White, ma'am."

She seemed to type idly away at her computer, "Here is some paperwork. You can sit in room forty five."

She gestured down the corridor of ominous doors. My mother grasped the clipboard, "Travis, I will fill this out."

He nodded and proceeded down the hallway with clockwork motions, treading past the increasingly numbered rooms. The ugly cream walls sauntered mockingly next to us, his strides becoming more tense and quickening. I hated the color of them; off white "tranquil" nauseating smear. He slowed as we approached our designated space. The door was open; a standard vacant health room appeared before us. He placed me on the convertible sterile chair; paper crackling underneath my weight. He chose to remain standing, forever alert; avoiding an ill placed gaze upon my wound. I observed the plain décor which had seen more horror than I can imagine. I felt strangely at ease, my stalwart step father standing at attention, protecting me from further damage. Ten minutes passed, my eyes grew weary from studying the various advertisements for prescriptions and collections of the charts dictating normal bodily function. A few people rushed past our door way, hurrying to their appropriate rooms. I looked at my legs, they seemed so far away from me; it was strange how they were even attached to my body, two parallel rods of flesh. I glanced over at my step father's arms to compare complexion, of course his skin was burnt rose and mine a faded peach with accents of vapid grey. _I wonder how much blood I've lost._

A figure appeared in the doorway, I looked up, and the woman looked at her clipboard in suspicious frenzy and then double checked the room number. "Ah, so you are Mae? Name's Doctor Kelly. Let's see that foot shall we?" Her softly curled almond cherry hair strewn around her face, the mass of it coiled inside a rumpled ball on the end of her part. Her nose was the most interesting feature on her face; it gently slid down her face, and ended in an upturned point. Her pointed cheekbones exaggerated her sharp features. Her chin pinched her face together at a rounded edge. Her grey washed eyes sparkled with intriguing optimism. My mouth opened slightly at her name, _no…it couldn't be._

My step father shuffled a bit, "Well…it's both feet." He whipped out my mother's digital camera and handed the image of my confused face and the path of blood over to Dr. Kelly.

She held the camera in disbelief, "So that's where you stepped?"

I slowly nodded lips still parted. She gave the camera back, and placed her clipboard on the counter next to the reclining chair I was perched. She crouched down to meet my dangling feet, lifted my right one up, turned my ankle to witness the extent of the damage, replaced it, and elevated the other. I scanned her clip board on the counter for any hint at a first name, my endeavor met defeat.

She smiled in relief, "Good news is that they aren't too deep, the gashes will heal quickly."

My father nodded respectfully, "Any bad news?" He tensed his body, bracing for the worst. _Hey, Travis! It's not like they are going to have to amputate…what's the worst that could happen? _ I looked over back at Dr. Kelly who was at her original height her face rock solid.

"It appears that a great deal of blood was lost, nothing to be too alarmed of. Since she does have chronic aplastic anemia she is going to have to stay here to replace the blood was lost…after surgery of course."

He relaxed a bit, "How long will she have to stay for?"

She raised a dismissive casual hand, "Not too long, perhaps a couple of days, for rehabilitation and so forth." She picked up her clip board, "Yes, that should be fine, you are covered for four days in your insurance, and I will make sure that it is no more than that." She turned back to me, her long white coat fluttering softly, revealing a small device attached to her hip, "I will be taking care of you in your stay, now we have to hurry to surgery to get those things out." She looked at the clothes on my body, noticing them for the first time. She reached into a drawer, picked a long thin blue cloth out, and handed it to me, "You won't have any trouble getting into this, now will you?" She giggled politely at my towel around the bottom portion of my legs.

I shook my head, "I guess not!"

My step father left the room, but standing right outside the door, so I may change in privacy. Doctor Kelly drew the curtain around the chair for security.

She stepped toward the door, "Change, I will send someone in to bring you to surgery."

I nodded pointlessly and she exited the room. I slid the zippered coat off of me, and then I unwrapped the useless towel from my lower half. It wasn't chilly in the room, but I hadn't noticed how warm the jacket was until it was off my body. My skin was deathly drained to a bleak hue which bizarrely sparkled like shimmering silver underneath the florescent bulbs. I indolently tethered the gown over me; these menial actions exhausting my feeble body. I hadn't thought about how much blood I have lost, partially from my dismissive attitude towards my health. I did not let my disease harbor the efficacy in which I lived, nor the quality of the work I produced. I waited, for which seemed like hours, under a frigid air conditioning vent. A person walked into my room, with a long tray on wheels, from what my ears could decipher. The drab curtain flung away and revealed a man in purple scrubs holding the handled side of a bed on wheels. It looked oddly snug from where I was sitting, underneath the harsh breeze of frosty air. He was boringly ordinary, except for his sneakers, which looked too expensive to be worn in a hospital. He coaxed my body over to the wheelie-bed and I lay comfortably on top of the white pillow and sheets. My feet dangled slightly irregularly off the side, to prevent further agitation. He brought me securely to the surgeon's wing, absolutely silent. My bed rocked soothingly down the garish halls. Slowly, my eye lids became cumbersome, shutting peacefully on my weary eyes.

I awoke by adamant coughing reverberating next to me. I shook my head, looked to my right: an IV embedded in my arm, a bag of blood attached to the long cord, a high ledge prevented sight out a long window above the bag.

I looked to my left: a tall curtain drawn on another person, hacking away, and the face of my distraught mother at the foot of my bed. "Oh thank god, you are awake!"

I looked once more toward the window; sunshine. I shimmied upright, "What time is it?"

She rummaged through her bag for her phone, "10:09 am. I'm sorry, I would have gotten here earlier, but visiting hours didn't start until 10."

I shook my head, "Don't worry about it; I had a couple of nightmares anyway…nothing too serious."

She rolled her eyes, "They said you had horrible blood loss. Your body almost succumbed to shock."

I shook the news off, "Yeah? I was certainly shocked to still be here. How long do I have before I can go home?" I pulled the sheets away from my feet, they lay bandaged and tender on the bleached cotton fabric.

My mother covered my extremities to ensure escape was not an option, "They say Sunday you will be able to start to walk again. You are lucky, you will have no problem adjusting, since the majority of the damage was on the outside of your foot, not the underside. It missed all major veins, miraculously."

I repeated that acquainted word for myself, "_Miraculous._"

My mother replaced her phone, "Lucky duck. What a way to spend your weekend, huh?"

I shrugged, mildly complacent, "I just want my computer, I'll be fine."

My mother nodded, kissed my crown, "Yes, my girlie. I'll be back later. Here is the remote to your T.V."

I sat there, looking towards the window that was beyond my reach. Just thinking. Thinking of what kind of food the hospital serves, what disease the person next to me has, what channels I can watch on this T.V., if my feet will scar; all sorts of things.

Doctor Kelly breezes into the room, takes my chart from the base of my bed, and walks over to adjust the IV, "Seems like everything is going smoothly. How are you feeling?" She leaned a little too close into me for my comfort, strange bedside manner.

I nodded translucently, "Fine…just thirsty."

She backed away, "Oh alright, I'll make sure that a tall glass of water is sent to your room. Lunch will be served at 12:30, is that okay?"

I shrugged, "What if it wasn't?"

She gave a small chuckle, "I would have to send your meal away, if you aren't up for eating, as some patients here are not. But I suspect you have a regular appetite…"

I smiled simply, "I guess you could say that…"

She turned to my window, "Is the sun bothering you at all?"

I shook my head, "No, in fact, I would like the blinds a little more spacious." She adjusted them thoughtfully, so a couple of slivers of bar like light strewn across my sheets. She fiddled with one of her front coat pockets, unwrapped a mint and placed it routinely in her mouth.

She searched her left hip, grasping at her prehistoric pager, "I am sorry I really must be going. I will check up on you after your meal." When she swung her body around another black object, smaller than her pager, revealed itself; clung to her opposite hip. _Why would she need two pagers?_ I studied the luminescent stripes covering my sheeted body and faded away into a daydream.


	19. Chapter 19: Patient

Chapter 19

Patient

I laid, semi-awake, for the good portion of one hour. Sleep was virtually unobtainable in between the tenacious patient next to me, and the ache below my ankles. Even as pitiful my state is now; I can't help but to think of him.

_I'm such a fucking fool. I am blind. _I am surprised at how little my health preys on my mind. _I don't care about this stupid fucking hospital, the fucking shitty color of the walls, the channels I have on this T.V., my recovery time, or how many miserable people die in this hell hole. I want my Professor. I want him here, I want him to tell me that it was not my fault, I didn't see the glass; I don't see anything but him. I wonder how long the minutes are in here. Will I blink to Sunday morning? Will I sleep straight into tonight? Will I lie awake counting seconds which deceive like hours?_

I looked on the tray next to my left arm, my cell phone rests on top of a notebook and folder. I lifted the phone from the anomalous book and placed the device on my leg. I opened the notebook which contained various doodles and notes from my classes, and a small slip of paper glided from beyond one of the pages. I flipped to the page the bizarre bookmark fell from, it being philosophy notes; specifically an argument against free will. I retracted the tiny piece from my bed, an interesting portrait scribbled on one side of it, and on the other a bubble that read, "Lackadaisical as always" in semi-neat script. I flipped it again, trying to make out the oddly detailed picture. I forced it closer and farther from my face, attempting to encrypt the strange markings. It was five inches away from my nose when the image grasped form. _Clever._

The miniature drawing was my Professor Kelly with a silly disapproving look. I took note of how his strokes were so precise but deliberate. I could trace the way he flicked his pen to fashion each streak; the ink expanded callously at the beginning of his lines. The doodle was a striking resemblance to him, especially how uncanny the scrawled glasses on his caricatured face resembled their scuffled appearance last night. I wasn't aware of his expertise; his penmanship was wary at best in class and he never seemed like he would be as artistic. A chord struck inside me and my digits longed for wood between them; effortlessly dragging against a blank pad. This sudden inspiration blindsided me and my thumbs wrote a motivating note on my phone; for future reference. I typed out a short message to my mother asking her to bring my sketchpad and art bag with my supplies as well as my computer when she visits later. A response was long awaited; she replied a half an hour later with, "Alright." I placed my phone back onto the table and studied the petite illustration until I memorized it entirely. I replaced it back between the pages. A nurse entered the room and brought me a paper cup of water, alongside a vitamin supplement. When the nurse left the room, I flicked on the television.

I stopped on a random game show; I watched the television for about a half an hour then my mother came in the room, "Heya sweetie! How are you feeling?"

I sat up a bit and nodded, "I have been better."

She gave me a silly frown, "Hey! The Doctors say you will be back on your feet in no time at all!" She lugged my art tote in with my backpack with my laptop and charger; also to my surprise my cell phone charger was included with the thoughtful care package.

I outstretched my arms to signal a hug, "Thanks mom, you are the best."

She gave me a warm embrace, "Mothers always know best." Without a hitch her cell rang, she picked it up, looked at it, and ignored the call.

I pointed at the phone, "Shouldn't you get that? It could be business."

The busy woman shook her head, "The only business I have right now is visiting you…and…" She opened her bag and took out a bag of various fruits.

She smiled cheerfully, "You need all the vitamins you can get!"

I threw up my hands, "How big is that bag of yours?"

She puts her pointer to her lips, "It's my _Mary Poppins_ bag!" From the way she said it my ears heard her say "_Mary Poopins"_ and I bursted out laughing immediately.

My mom put the fruit on top of my tote, "What?"

I caught my breath, "Nothing, it's just too silly."

My mother shook her head at her daughter, who was bound to bust her stitches, "Don't have too much fun! I want you to come home, after all." I simmered down a bit and waved my hands in disbelief.

I looked over at my small table to the left, at my books, and back to her, "Hey mom, did you bring these to me?" I poked the folder underneath my note book.

She nodded, "Last night. They were on the chair next to you, they seemed important, like you were about to study before your accident…so I brought them."

I focused on the book; _I don't remember bringing these in the kitchen. They should have been in my school bag where I left them._

My mother patted my head, "Oh you. You really need to find a time for yourself, without your school books. It really worries me when you hole yourself up in your room like that."

I looked at her, "Yeah, but what am I supposed to do? Hangout with Claire? She is always doing something with her little friends; plus they are in high school…isn't that a little weird?"

My mother sighed, "What about Charlotte?"

I blew air through my lips, vibrating them while rolling my eyes, "Yeah, okay. When is she never hanging out with Jasmine? They are physically attached, those two." Exasperated, my mother turned to my side and played with her cell phone. I shook my head "It's okay. I really have enough time to myself. Plus, I'm really worried about you. You know. You're always working; we never get to hang out anymore."

My mother shrugged, "You're always working on the holidays and on the weekends and you go to school during the week- during the day when I'm at work. Our schedules just don't add up." _There must be some way that we could schedule a time? No, that just seems so ridiculous a mother and daughter having to schedule time together? _I could tell that she is getting uncomfortable. I could tell the subject matter was distressing. But I didn't care, I know it seems that I will never have this sort of connection ever again; this conversation is the chance of a lifetime. The way that she rung her hands in her lap. The way that she brushed her hair against the temple of her fore head, alluded to the fact that she did not want to continue with the conversation.

I pressed on, "It really bugs me mom, and I wish we were a family again like the way we used to be? The way it was in the apartment together, the old times." She looked at me dead in the eyes. It seemed like I questioned fate. The look in her eyes was indescribable.

For a moment a piece of her shown to me that I haven't seen in quite a while, "You know nothing of the times when we were in the apartment."

I scoffed lightly and frivolously, "All I know is it was better than the times that we have now at least we were family. At least I knew where you were and what you were doing and what you thought." I couldn't tell her that I thought I was so distant to her, that I didn't even believe that we were family; that we were just people living in a house together. A distinguishable grin slapped across her face, I could tell that her mind was up to no good. I knew that she felt the same; I wonder how long she has felt this way. She never talks to me anymore I only get snippets of what Claire tells me. They talk more than my mother and I ever have; I'm jealous of that.

My mother peered towards the window, "We will discuss this at another time." Her mood instantly cheered up for fear of 'judgmental' eyes around us. I stared blankly while she checked over her shoulder futilely, "It's alright dear! We can work out anything." Her absolute optimism was nauseating.

A smudged ill placed smile whimpered over my lips, "That's fine!" my tone was not demeaning but drolly jovial. I kept her blissfully amused, ignorant as usual.

She held her phone_; I'm surprised it isn't surgically attached,_ and checked the time, "Oh honey! I have to pick up your sister from rehearsal." I nodded systematically while she kissed my crown. My mother pointed at the mesh sack of assorted fruit," Don't forget! I love you." I reciprocated the poorly timed three worded sentence; it fell flat on the grotesque cream walls for her shape was halfway through the doorway. I leaned hard into my flat pillows, trying to sink into the headboard and through the walls. I wished to disappear.

My lunch soon followed my mother fleeting presence. It was mediocre but satisfying. I trampled over my own thoughts; trying to pinpoint a reason as to why my mental capacity was enamored with thoughts of my odd Professor and his silly little scrawling. I reached over the lumpy bag on the floor and pulled out an orange. I dug my thumb's nail deep into its hide; the sweet citrus scent billowed into the air, surrounding me in a refreshing cloud. When I ripped the skin away from the flesh I desired, a tart spray sprinkled my hand and face. A particular vicious droplet landed on my pupil, I blinked feverishly to alleviate the sting. I was thankful for the unexpected bounty in the sack; I counted the round objects within to ration for my duration here; two apples, a plum, and one more orange. I decided to save the plum for when I was exerting my artistic expressions on the paper provided in my art tote. I picked all the white strings from the exterior of the fruit. I pulled the stem away from the top, the fibers of the connecting strings attached to the stem separated smoothly from the body, inserting my pointer finger in the top of the opening; the digit explored the fleshy walls of each slice. I pulled the opening wide with my other hand; separating the mass in half. Delicately, my fingers pulled away each tantalizing piece. I placed the each before me, marveling at their different shapes and sizes. My right hand picked one up and held it up, the light from my side lamp illuminated through the thin skin allowing the small pockets of juice to be visible. Each individual vein within the slice astonished me; I placed it between my lips so that they might trace the bevels underneath the skin. My tongue pulled the skin away, revealing the pods inside. My teeth seized each pod, one by one, bursting them intricately inside my mouth. I consumed the whole orange in similar fashion; enjoying every bit. I tossed the skin into the waste basket next to my bed.

I closed my eyes for a solid moment and upon sensing someone's presence in close proximity they fluttered open. I turned my head to my right, no person was found. Shifting to the left a vague silhouette crouched next to my bed. I locked my eyes shut, willing away the strange and dark creature. Paralyzed in fear, I breathed shallowly, trying to distinguish the pattern in which the being next to me inhaled. The slight sound of air entering small nostrils crept over me. _Dare I peek?_ I shuddered inwards tremulously, my lids lazily slid upwards; focused on the shape. I made out a small head, and two shoulders with folded arms attached.

A small light illuminated the figure's distorted face. _Charlotte?_ I shifted in my bed, "Oh! You are awake? I was so worried!" She leapt over me, embracing my shoulders awkwardly, shaking my body in pure joy. _She's such a creeper_. I turned on my bedside light, a chair underneath her crouched physique. She sat back down and I checked my phone; _6:10? I closed my eyes for two seconds!_ I lifted myself up to sit up, and she pointed at my feet, "Can I see them?" A wicked little smile curved sweetly upon her delicate face. I nodded, pulled the sheets from them, and exposed the two bandaged extremities for viewing pleasure. "Ouch! How bad did that hurt?"

I shook my head, "I did, when I noticed that it happened."

"What do you mean 'when I noticed'? Did you not step in it and freak out? Why weren't you looking to begin with? Honestly…"

"I was a bit preoccupied."

My fleeting response sent her curiosity skyrocketing.

"What? With what? Don't tell me you were drunk!"

"No…No! Nothing like that! Plus I would be dead by now, with all the blood loss and alcohol on top of that?"

"I guess so…what had you absentminded?"

I chuckled lowly, looked at my feet, then back at her, "You wouldn't believe me."

She licked her lips, placed her phone back into her back pack, leaned forward, and grinned cheekily, "Try me, girlie." I sighed enormously to prepare myself for utter embarrassment.

The first word, "Well…" dripped out of my mouth when Doctor Kelly entered the room.

"Hello Mae…and friend?"

I jumped, a bit flustered, and blurted, half-screaming, "Yes, she is my best friend, Charlotte!" Charlotte blinked once and mouthed the word,_ "Smooth."_

I twisted a bit of hair between my fingers out of apprehension, my Doctor moved over to the front of my bed, "Nice to meet you Charlotte, I am Mae's Doctor." She picked up my charts and scribbled something down onto hers, "Mae, since you missed routine meals, would you like yours now? I will assure you it is fresh, hadn't been sitting out since six."

I nodded politely, "Yes please, that would be amazing." I noticed the room was oddly quiet for two patients to be occupying the same room and glanced to the curtain by Charlotte's side.

My Doctor nodded, "Yes, the previous patient that was in here was taken to another private room to be analyzed further. You are a lucky one!" I giggled and glanced over at Charlotte who was poorly hiding some devilish smile. Doctor Kelly smoothed her tresses back from her forehead and moved to my I.V. She checked the dosage, "Any pain?"

I shrugged whimsically, "Just the usual, I guess. It hasn't been any more or less persistent, maybe more numb than anything." She analyzed my word selection deliberately, trying to pursue the finest course of action. She turned a small wheel at the base of the bag and the dripping increased a fraction of a millisecond.

"That should do it." She murmured to herself, turned to me and smiled warmly, "Yes, I will send someone in for your meal. Do you think you will be up for physical training tomorrow? Your wounds seem to be healing rather quickly, much faster than anticipated." She nervously looked at Charlotte, hoping to not have created some uncomfortable tension by discussing medical matters. Charlotte's face was content, not taught at all.

I hummed softly, "That should be fine. I can take it! Thank you so much Doctor."

My Doctor nodded in a gentle bowlike manner, "It's my pleasure. I will check up on you again around ten, when visiting hours are over." Her gaze sharply flicked over back to Charlotte, then softly back to me.

I smiled crookedly, a bit unsure of her actions, "Okay, see you then." She placed the chart back on the holder in the bed, turned to the door gracefully, and sauntered effortlessly out of my room.

Charlotte let out a low whistle, "Woah. I wish I was in the care of a fox like her!"

I collapsed my shoulder, defeated, "You don't know the start of it…you know her name?" Charlotte blinked, realizing that the stunning Doctor never indicated what her name was. The corner of my lips upturned, the lids under my eyes perked upwards, and I inched out to whisper close to her, "Doctor Kelly."


	20. Chapter 20: Suspicion and Stories

Chapter 20

Suspicion and Stories

Her eyes widened, "No. It can't be…That's your Professor's sister?"

I waved my hands in front of me, "I don't know that for sure, I haven't caught her first name so far."

She cocked her head to the side, "How many siblings does your dashing Professor have?"

I pinched my eyebrows in thought, "I think he said he has two older sisters, one's name is Leia, and one has some sort of illness."

Charlotte laughed wildly, "Oh you _would_ have the one Doctor in the whole fucking hospital that is related to _him_."

I frowned proudly, "I know right? Kinda weird though."

She patted my leg, "Don't worry…I'll investigate for you!"

I stared at her dully," Don't get into any trouble! I won't be there to haul you away from any danger this time."

Charlotte was always a fiend for peril, whether it is sneaking into abandoned mental institutes_ (in which I had to seduce, poorly in fact, a local guard's attention away from Charlotte so she can make a break for the car), _or making terrible decisions about swimming in the ocean in late summer when all the jellyfish drift to shore. She is wild and keeps my life unexpectedly full of surprise. Who else but Charlotte would trick me into joining a hot dog eating contest, only to have ketchup and water soak my favorite ivory blouse? _I won that by the way_. She might not consider me her best friend, but everything good comes in time. _One day, she will realize I had been there for her._

It was a strange situation but it did not alter my vigilant state of mind. Charlotte was busy gabbing on and on about some nonsense involving a fabricated future involving adventure and tragedy. I attempted to remain interested in her tale, but a more pressing matter asserted itself in the front of my mind; _should I inform her about the actions that transcribed between us? _It seemed too scandalous for even her taste. She would never allow me to live it down, I shamefully bent my head and stared off in the mountains and valleys formed by my stark white sheets.

Charlotte stopped, "Is there something wrong?"

I snapped my head back towards her, "Oh! No! Nothing at all! I was just imagining a world in which your fantasy could come true."

She giggled at me but it ended abruptly in disbelief, "You know. If you don't want to tell me that's fine, just don't expect me to understand your situation without knowing all the facts." My guess is that her tone unveiled sharper than what she had anticipated. My nerves jumped lightly at her stern voice. _She's a bit on edge. Does she think this is easy? How would she know? That's right, she doesn't because I haven't even let her in. _

A smooth exhale escaped through my taught lips and looked away to the window, "I don't know Charlotte…it is really difficult; not to mention mega embarrassing." I peered back at her and her face was as still as stone; a slightly patronizing glare boreing into me.

Frozen, we sat in dead lock silence. I was stationary in fear and she in pride. A chillingly odd laugh vibrated out from my chest, "Oh come on Charlotte. I know you won't judge me…and it really isn't even that bad…but I haven't even got the time to write it down in my diary yet!" My face switched from pasty grey to bright peach in realization of my poor word choice.

She giggled sincerely, "Okay, let's have it then!" All tension melted away in an instant, her look patiently vibrant awaited my story.

I sighed, defeated, and pointed at her playfully, "Yeah, you might regret hearing this…"

She shook her head wistfully, "Nah, girly. I want every last detail." _You asked for it._

I screwed up the beginning countless times, trying to pinpoint the best time to recount my anecdote. I decided to fuck it and start with my daydream before all of the actual events that transpired. A man came in with my dinner and I ate it while trying to assess the superlative way to start the story. During the juicy parts her mouth literally remained a jar, her eyes glazed over, and she was lost in a vivid fantasy completely warped by my own words. I, of course, left out the information that it was just a daydream until the very end.

She burst into a rage, "What! You are tellin' me that wasn't real? Damn girl. Here I was giving you more credit."

I rolled my eyes, "Thanks! The real shit is much more unbelievable." That shut her up. I told her how I woke up in the nurse's office, a slumbering Professor curled at my bedside.

Charlotte's eyes lit up in awe, "Awww! That is just too cute! Was he snoring?"

I laughed, "Haha! No! Not that I remember anyway…!"

My Doctor came in to check up on me and my tale had to be altered to remain anonymous and innocent. She checked me while exchanging idle chit chat and left, reminding us of the ten o'clock curfew. When she left the story unraveled further; the nurse's conversation, the fact that he carried me all the way, and the measures he took for me to remain safe and healthy. I was lost in the intricate web of story –telling; the sentences I weaved were intricately detailed to match the situation perfectly. She laughed when I told her about our car ride, and remained deathly silent during the part in which we parked in front of my house. I halted the story at my door step, leaving Charlotte hungry for more. I checked my phone: _9:45._

Charlotte frantically stretched her neck to glance at my phone, "No…No! Not yet! I have to know what happens!"

I placed my phone back onto the small tray, "Then you will just have to come back tomorrow!" She released a small series of whimpers, trying to persuade me differently. I shrugged, "Off you go, little miss. And don't get yourself in any trouble…you hear!" I wagged my finger at her and she pouted while collecting her things. She gave me a small hug and sluggishly shuffled out of the room. Needless to say, my phone blew up all night with messages from Charlotte; prodding me for more information. I kept firm, denying every advance. I sat under the florescent glow from my television, grinning devilishly at my recount. _Not bad. I know Charlotte is hooked and now have a basis in which I can scrawl in my diary. Perfect._ I looked at my bedside, the mesh sack of fruit leaning against the bed frame and my art bag next to it. I pinched my gaze on my tote, the artistic gears inside my head were cranking slowly. _All of this talk of him makes me inspired. _I grabbed my phone and looked at the note I set: _Idea: draw my Professor in my style, like his picture only by me._ I put it back down, and reached for my bag, pulled out my medium pad and case of assorted graphite pencils with a rubber and kneaded eraser, and proceeded to illustrate.


	21. Chapter 21: Portrait

Chapter 21

Portrait

After the flurry of pencil strokes and the image I longed for was starting to take shape I fumbled my hands through the mesh fruit bag. I seized a large granny smith and nipped at the skin delicately, raising it over the flesh underneath. I peeled a large portion of skin away, consumed it and gnawed into the juicy interior. I love tart and bitter foods. The more unusual the taste the more I can enjoy it. Half of the sour fruit was consumed and I rested it on the tray, my digits repositioning to continue my work. A few strokes later I decided to check my phone: 12:36. _I have to be up early tomorrow...maybe I should stop_. I sat and contemplated the consequences of each decision. The former seemed more pleasing to me so my fingers chiseled away at the basic drawing below them.

* * *

><p>Mae has always tried to become more active; trying to volunteer at an animal shelter, joining clubs, and making friends. Nothing stuck unfortunately. She just couldn't find that niche she really truly belonged, until she went to college. If only she could be a student forever she would be happy. Nothing makes her more excited than learning about new things, and impressing others with her knowledge.<p>

* * *

><p>When I was satisfied with the core of the illustration I sat back and marveled. <em>Not bad I guess.<em> I turned my head to the tray, a quarter of an apple and my phone both sat side by side. I lifted my phone, anxious to press any button to gain knowledge of the hour in which my manic sketching had halted. I closed my eyes and grasped the device. I opened them on an illuminated 2:45. My lips curled downward in a deep grimace. I only now realized how heavy my lids were on top of my eyes. Sleep should have no problem finding me tonight. I lazily tossed my apple in the pale next to my bed, threw my sketchbook on top of my tiny tray table, and placed my phone next to it. The low volume on the television rocked me in my white sheets and the graphite image of my Professor ensured my safe decent into slumber.

The noisy clanking of roller tray wheels forced my eyes open. My Doctor followed the breakfast trolley with a chipper smile. "Rise and shine sleepy head. It's time for your breakfast, and we gotta get you a change of clothes and a ba..." she froze at the foot of my bed.

I wiped the fatigue from my oculus and attempted to focus on her. Her gaze was beaming straight at my table. _Oh no. I'm so stupid. I forgot to close the fucking sketchbook._She approached the book with great caution, "May I?" her willowy pointer aimed at the page_. Quick! Think of something! I can't just be like 'oh yeah...that is my philosophy Professor that I am having strange relations with...who may happen to be your brother'._

My head, frozen on her, nodded pathetically.

She picked the disheveled book up carefully. The picture wasn't even finished; it was just a rough outline sketch. She analyzed it as though she had never seen a drawn picture before. A kind and gentle smirk gradually stretched on her lips, her eyes nostalgically scanned the image in its entirety.

"Who is this?" her voice playfully bantered between wavelengths in the air, her tone was slightly patronizing; as if she already knew the answer.

I cleared the disgusting embarrassment from my throat and sat up straight, "Just a guy. I think I saw him at school once. He was just sitting outside reading a book when a person came up to him, he feigned interest so perfectly but you knew that he wanted nothing more than to continue reading. I snapped a picture of his face and I decided to draw it. I don't have the picture anymore...I lent my camera to my friend and she accidentally dropped it in a water cooler at the beach." _That last half was true...fucking Charlotte. _I looked away for two seconds looked back at her and her eyes were skeptically peeking over the border of the book.

My soul bounced wildly in my stomach. _She saw right through me? _She chuckled oddly, "That makes else you would see him at school. Looks just like him."

Puzzled, I cocked my head, "You know him? Who is he?" she shook her head and placed the pad back on the table.

She shrugged aloofly, "Ah no one. Just someone I haven't seen in a while." she shut her eyes tightly and sighed longingly. Her features were so young, but her eyes possessed a hidden inner wisdom; from centuries of experience. Although she masked herself in a chipper mood a melancholy cloud seemed to be hanging around her. I coughed softly, trying to alleviate some of the tension in the room. I picked the sketchbook up and placed it on my lap; my eyes darted from her to his face on the page. The man with the breakfast trolley placed a plastic dish with matching cover on my table.

My Doctor awkwardly exchanged places with the small man and checked my bag, "You ready for training in an hour? We have to make sure you are limbered bright and early."

I furrowed my face, "What time is it?"

In an elegant swoop of her arm, she moved her sleeve up, and raised the watch on her wrist to her eyes, "7:30." _Shit, only three and a half hours of sleep? _Clearly my brain was not working. I smiled and nodded courteously.

She smiled tenderly, "I will be back in an hour or so." She looked to the floor, a spark of confusion swept across her face, and she hurried out like she had forgotten something. I shook it off and lifted the cover off my breakfast; it was a bowl of oatmeal, raisins and banana on the side, with two low fat sausage patties. I dug the spoon into the oatmeal, steam escaped the gash furiously. Leaning back in my bed I looked back down at my drawing, _was it really that obvious?_ I thought I took some creative liberty within my sketch to transform some of his features but it made the final product more analogous to him. I laid back and contemplated different ways to change the picture to mask its identity.

Doctor Kelly's shoes sped into my room and my eyes fluttered open. She approached my bed, "You look tired, and fell asleep did you?" She peered over to my table, "Didn't even touch your breakfast? You hungry?"

Embarrassed, I sat up, "Oh…I just closed my eyes for a moment. Last time I tried the oatmeal it was too hot."

She chuckled, "Doesn't seem to be a problem now. Let's get you in some real clothes…but first you need a bath." A woman came in to help me out of bed, take me to the bath, awkwardly wiped my body with a warm sponge, and replaced my old gown with sweat pants and a long white shirt. I finally got to wear a sports bra, and the girls couldn't be happier finally being supported. She ushered me into a room with a double railing bar with a padded walkway in the middle. The room was sort of big, miscellaneous exercise equipment all around; balls, arm cycles, massage therapy beds, and strange walking devices. It took me a while but I stood up; both my hands on either railing. I gripped the bars for support, as getting used to walk again after not walking for two mere days. I felt pathetic; I had to use these bars to stabilize myself, _what a joke._

The nurse kept me afloat with her coaching and mild physical cooperation. I quickly developed a wavering walk, safely distributing my weight on the lesser of my injuries. The pain was annoying, but not incredibly excruciating. I kept thinking about how useless I must look and how dreadful it is going to be when my Professor witnesses me. Somewhere in the middle of the two beams I lost my will to persevere. The persuasion of the nurse's delightful instructions faded into the wallpaper. The whole room warped into a muted circus of injured sideshows. I pitied everyone who was paraded around in this arena in hopes that their ailments heal properly. I looked down at the spongy dark blue mat and felt exposed. I lifted my head, my sights on the door. I wanted to run to the door and escape back to my room.

A figure stood in the door way, I tried to make out the silhouette but the shape was too fuzzy. A vision smacked me right in the face, I instantly thought back to the moment I was brought into the car to come here, that same shadow was here. I narrowed my eyes and through the corner I could see the nurse turn to see what I was looking at. The sound in the room flooded my ears, the colors in the area brightened to their former state. "Oh, do you know him?" The nurse's voice called out to me; it rang in my ears for a solid second._Him?_ _The shadow following me is a man? It would make sense…it is a pretty tall form._ The height, the shape, the aura…all of it was so familiar.

_Ba-dum_.

My heart jumped to the back of my spine, the hairs on my neck and arms stood, and my hand slipped from the right bar and the nurse dove forward to catch me before I fell. In a stupor I started panting wildly, the nurse questioned my corporeal state. I nodded her off, dismissing it with a wave of my hand, "Lost my grip." My eyes still locked on the man's body. _What is he doing here?_


	22. Chapter 22: Visitor

Chapter 22

Visitor

My eyes never left the door frame. The nurse guided my hand to the bar on my right again. I elevated up to my height, glanced over to my curiously worried nurse, and tried to stop my shuddering breaths. _That __**is**__ him right? _Never mind the comfortable hazel hoodie and sleek maroon polo his torso was sporting or the dark fitted jeans on his lower half. I was marveling at how relaxed he was; being so alarmingly attractive even in average clothing. He seemed to be conversing with someone who was just shy of sight. He had a rather large book in his left hand, I couldn't make out the cover; his slender thighs blocked a clear view…not that I was complaining.

A sudden urgency to turn from his possible field of view forced me to spin around and start to hobble the opposite direction. The nurse attempted to turn me around so that I may finish the few feet that were left in the prior direction but I was too stubborn to even heed her words. _I cannot let him see me like this._ Hopefully I was undistinguishable from behind, especially in these god awful hospital pajamas. _At least I am clean._ The nurse shrugged and helped me in the direction I was hell-bent on pursuing.

She smiled warmly, "You know that gentleman? I see him time to time, always coming in with a book to read to the kids in the children's wing. Seems like a kind fellow." I paused for a brief second, my eyelashes affixed with saline. They did not trickle down my cheeks, instead drying as quickly as they had formed. I pondered this while trying to escape sight from the doorway. _The ache inside him from losing his child must always be eating at him. _Before I knew it, I was stumbling all by myself; the nurse at my side continuously congratulating me. _For what? What did I really accomplish? Me walking like a bumbling idiot isn't going to bring back my Professor's wife or daughter. _

My irritation became visible in the scowl on my face. At the time I had no idea I was making that sort of face, not until the nurse abruptly stopped did I lighten up. "What's wrong dear? Does it hurt?" She grazed my arm in a half-worried manner which exacerbated my foul mood. I shook my head, attempting to raise my eyebrows in a gentle way, but failing so it looked like I was giving her sarcasm. She mouthed, "Oh" and took her arms away from my person. "Do you want to go back to your room?" She flatly stated, as if her previous praise was anything but self rewarding.

I waved my hand in front of me, "No, no! I am sorry. I really didn't mean to offend you; I guess I am just having trouble finding my own groove when I walk." She nodded, like she obviously knew this all along. I secretly rolled my eyes and continued to practice until I could almost walk normally. I guess she helped, when she wasn't talking about different T.V. shows. The more I walked, the more the pain seemed to subside. I continued to think about my compassionate Professor, wearing his red converse and rummaging through his pockets for his phone; imagining him doing normal things was what I end up thinking about most of the time. I know, it is really strange…but I do wonder which pockets he checks first for his keys (and drops them) or who the first person is that he checks his text messages for. The little things, the little habits are what fuel my curiosity.

A small thought crept into my mind: _what if he finds my room?_ I don't need him to worry about me any more than he does already –wishful thinking I know. Soon enough, my time in physical therapy hell was over. My nurse ushered me into my wheelchair again and took me back to my room; her admiration flooded the whole elevator like sewage water from a broken pipe. _I really didn't do anything splendid. _Everything she said could be taken and twisted horribly, "You did really great _today_. I didn't know you had such strength." I was at a loss for a reaction, so I just robotically nodded. _At least the children's wing is on the floor below mine._

I flopped back onto my bed and checked my phone; a couple of new messages awaited my response. The nurse left in a notable rush and I looked at the meal which was still awaiting my consumption. I lifted the lid and a whole new serving of food appeared before me. I looked at the time on my phone: 10:15. We spent more time in there than I previously estimated. I began to eat the warm apple mush in the small cup next to my small ham steak and peas. Thoughts of my Professor jumbled up inside my head; _why did he have to be here? I thought I had more than enough trouble without him. _Speaking of trouble, my phone buzzed with a message from Charlotte saying that she cannot wait to visit again and she will be back around seven. I sent her a speedy reply and wolfed down the rest of my meal. I eased back into my bed and my eyes immediately closed on this world to enter my personal fabricated reality.

I rolled over to face the wall; my lids bit by bit releasing their vice grip on top my eyes. I smiled, completely rested, emerging from a wondrous dream. My arm flailed backwards to land on my phone, only to be obstructed by a solid tepid cloth. I opened my eyes completely and withdrew my arm instantly, a prickling shiver spreading over my spine. _Is it seven already? I guess that makes sense, Charlotte must be here. It was around eleven or twelve when I started my nap; a good amount of rest. _I sighed casually and in one motion I sat up and turned to face Charlotte, a silly grin plastered on my jaw tensed up, forcing my teeth to lock and grit attempting to conceal my ignorance of her presence.

I opened my indolent eyes on a fretful face. My Professor's slender arms placed on his tense calf which was resting on his knee, a small but broad book in hand. I briefly took note of his grey and blue trimmed argyle socks under his low-top sneakers, running up his slightly worn bottoms of his jeans, to the fine fingers gripping his stout book, up his smooth arms, to the quarter sleeve of his cotton polo with silver stitching, his collar which is comfortably disheveled, and finally stopping on his brilliant face which is clouded in concern. He parted his lips, only to be subdued by limitations of his own speech. I let out a cringing whine, completely born from confusion.

He placed his book on my tray, on top of my closed –thank god- sketchbook, "Why are you here?" He attempted to sound curious but it came off as desperate.

I lifted my sheets, revealing my bandaged feet, "On Thursday night, when I was outside, I stepped on some glass." His eyes shifted cautiously to my lower half, and winced at the sight of them.

His eyebrows puckered in a guilty sulk, his lower lip extending outwards forcing his mouth into a deep frown. "This is all my fault, Mae. I am so sorry."

I cleared the soft sleep from my throat and chuckled, "No it isn't! I didn't see the damn things. You didn't put the glass there. I was stupid."

He shook his head somberly, "No, I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have even stayed for as long as I did. I came back to bring you some books you forgot in my car." I blinked feverishly, trying to take in all of his words. His voice jumped in the air, "Not that I regret staying! I really enjoyed…um…being there…" A skeptical smile stretched across my lips from his word choice. "…if I left earlier none of this wouldn't have happened."

I nodded, "Perhaps, but I am …content." A bit of the worry faded from his face and in place was a vividly pink complexion. I knew that mine was still relatively gaunt but I knew a touch of coral might have graced my cheeks. I looked toward the hoodie on the back of his chair and the large book next to it, "What's that?" He shifted to glance at the object of my fixation and his usual adorable smile popped back onto his face.

He picked up the brightly colored book, "It's just a little children's book I rented from the library to read to the kids in the hospital." He seemed to get lost in the different characters on its cover. He sighed warmly and handed it to me. I read the title, "Melody's Great Adventure", and my Professor chuckled, "It's about a small cat that goes on a trip to find its lost friend, who happens to be a mouse. She travels all over the world trying to find him, only to come home and find him at her doorstep." He cleared his throat and added, "My wife asked me to read to Amber so that she may love literature as much as she had. You see, my wife was a poet, and she died before seeing her child. So I read to her. I read to Amber in her chamber, trying to fight for survival." His tone was not sullen but more tenderly nostalgic. It was slightly strange, but I thought it noble. He plucked the book from my lap, "You see, I know she would want me to make sure all the children understand the appeal of literature, so far all of the kids I read to love books." His eyes sparkled with hope and I proudly smiled, "I am so happy you are able to instill the love of knowledge onto them." He modestly snorted, "I'm disappointed I didn't do this sooner. I really don't do it too often, but it really does make my day."

I giggled, "And I bet it makes the children's days too!" He glanced back at me and his smile attempted to be charming, the presence of pain wounded its delivery. I knew the darkness he kept inside was slowly consuming him, all these years, being chained down to a memory and enslaved to ancient emotions. _Does he continue to read to these children out of guilt or out of promise? _I inhaled sharply, "Well, anyway…I am sorry you have to see me like this, it must be a burden to even be here…you must have things to do…"

His brow creased in irritation, cutting me off, "Don't even think that for a second. I think you look stunning, even in a drab place like this." I froze. Lost forever in his clever wrinkles and freckles juxtaposed effortlessly on his face. I craved to feel them underneath my finger tips, to shape every bit of skin with my inadequate hands. He giggled with embarrassment to himself, looked at the book now closed within his grasp, and half whispering half talking inwardly, "I stopped for a while, but recently found my inspiration." He looked up at me, a glint of mystery hidden within his iris. A flash of nervous lightening singed the lining of my stomach. I tried to mask my inner apprehension, it somewhat slipped the side of my lip quivered under the pressure. I glanced over to my side table, the sketchbook with my obsessive drawing located in the center. He caught my stare on the book; an inquisitive eyebrow raised tentatively his voice now teasingly soft, "Oh, is this yours?"

My bones nearly leapt out of my skin, I half-shouted, "Y-yes that is mine…why?" I tried to camouflage the last word as innocence but it articulated as playful alluring banter. Almost immediately his hand rested on its cover. I panicked.

My arms swooped up that volume like my life depended on it. A grin cracked on his face so wide that I had trouble finding the ends to it. Small glints of impish intentions reflected in his eyes, "What…have you got, in there?" His tone was irresistibly enchanting; his voice was so sweet that I felt as if I needed to immediately brush my teeth. I was hypnotized by the delicious folds of his words, the poor book bending in the thrall of my clutches. He tilted his head back, his dominating stare trickling down the length of his nose, "Be careful…" his words were annunciated slowly in a mischievous whisper, "…we wouldn't want to crease its 'secret' contents."

I gradually released the sketchbook, my voice squeaked, "Yes…of course." I sighed, relieving my pent up pride and slid the book towards him on my lap. He brought his head back down and gave me an approving smile. _Just breathe._ He picked the book up and placed it on his lap, giving me a reassuring glance before crossing the threshold into my private world. I nodded, slightly defeated and strangely curious. I watched his experienced digits trace the cover's opening to the book before placing his index under the cover, pinching the thick paper, and pulling it back. I closed my eyes, trying to allow my ears to gauge how he perceives my 'art'. Luckily, this book was for my life drawing class, his picture was in the back, and it was on the opposite side of a blank paper; cunningly hidden.

He let out a series of surprised purrs and my eyes opened on him studying the angles and textures of each nude model. He quickly glanced over at me looking at him, a tiny grin slicing through his lips, "These are marvelous, Mae. Why didn't you want me to see them?"

I shrugged, slightly calmed, "I guess the subject is not to most people's liking?"

He chuckled, "Anyone who is like that is not worth mentioning. This is just wonderful the way you pay attention to details that are easily ignored." He was approaching the end of the book and I shifted uneasily in my bed. He paused, "Is something the matter?" his voice was superbly cautious.

I smiled cheerfully, "No! Nothing, I guess I am excited that you like my work."

He giggled lightly, "That makes me exultant." My eyelids lowered, basking in the high level of his vocabulary. He continued to flip through the pages until I was certain the picture was the next one. He halted, thumbing at the small paper sticking out of the corner of the next page. My breath arrested, my eyes vexed on those probing fingertips.


	23. Chapter 23: Art and Literature

Chapter 23

Art and Literature

So very carefully he peeled the page back, gripping the corner of the page. The small piece of paper that he thumbed fell from the book onto the floor. He leaned forward to scoop the peculiar paper, and his lips curved directly in discomfort. It was the small picture he drew for me, the one I used for reference for my portrait. "Ah, you did find this little thing?" He mumbled sorely to himself and placed the tiny scribbling on the table next to him.

I snickered triumphantly, "Yes, I did…" His gaze shifted back to the book, which reflected a bigger and more detailed adaptation of his drawing.

He stopped.

Suspended in utter awe of the depiction, "This…" his mouth loosely ajar. _No use in hiding it anymore._

I scratched the side of my face casually, "Yeah…that. I felt like reproducing it in a larger format." The frivolous nature of my voice startled me. His head rose to meet my gaze, his eyes somewhat affronted by my detached demeanor. _I don't want to push him away._ I reached over to grasp his doodle and held it before me, studying the subject, "I never knew you could draw, Professor. I love this so much." My bottom lip curled inside my mouth, my teeth harshly disciplining its poor verbal selection.

He shook his head, still fixated on my sketch, "I can't believe this. It is so precise." His words horribly alluded to the fact that I spent way too much time studying his features.

A heavy sigh vibrated from my throat, "Yes…I have had more than enough time to examine your facial appearance. Actually…"

I slid my hand over the book, pulled it from his hands, leaned over to my knapsack, retrieved a pencil and poised it over the page, "…I have to fix something…mind sitting still?"

His eyebrows jutted up in innocent bewilderment, "Oh! No…not at all!" He positioned himself in quarter profile, like the sketch, and sat impeccably still. I reached for my eraser and chiseled away at the side of his cheek.

I reshaped his nose and nodded delightfully, "There, now the base is complete."

He faced forward, "Base? You mean it isn't finished yet?"

I snorted, "Yeah, not even close."

I gave him the book back and he beamed at my adjustments, but paused at the eyes, "These…are so…" his language faltered so modestly, trying not to offend me.

I picked up his speech, "Lost?" His eyebrows pinched in affirmation.I straightened my legs, "Yes, I know. This is the look you give me from time to time. If anything, I wanted to capture this entity within you." The corners of his mouth gave a small slither upwards in sudden recognition of my artistic intent. He looked down at it once more, grasping a feel of this image he was unaware he even possessed. He mouthed the word, "Maybe" Silently to himself; as if reassuring an argument from within. He replaced the book back on the table, examining it to the bitter end when his fingers softly pushed the cover back on top of the pages.

He somberly placed his hands on his thighs, one on top of the other; he cocked his head slightly when lifting it to look into my eyes. This bent posture accented his silhouette, altering it to curiously wounded stance. He placed his hand over his lips, his pointer curled before his mouth, trying to search for the correct wording. Finally, he removed his hand and his lips formulated, "I was so scared." He looks away immediately, out of direct embarrassment, "When I saw your name on the faceplate in front of this door, which is strange in itself since I never come down this hallway, I couldn't stop my body from entering this room. I had to know if it was you…" My face dropped from soothingly endearing to grief stricken; _he was desperately worried._ He licked his lips, trying to continue his sentence, "…I walked in, looked upon your resting face and laughed to myself in relief; even when sleeping you look so carefree, even in when ill in a hospital bed, only you. My sleeping beauty."

A small smile trickled between my lips, "Were you going to awaken me from my slumber, my prince?"

He chuckled, "I know it sounds stupid." A sarcastic upturn of my eyebrows agreed with his assumption. He sat up straight, "Nonetheless, I wanted you to sleep, I didn't want to disturb you, but I did want to make sure you were alright…" I crumpled my expression at him; trying to figure him out, _what did you do my silly Professor?_ He swallowed hard and fidgeted in his seat, like a naughty child in the principal's office, "…I, uhm, may have read my book aloud to try to persuade you in waking up." A series of unruly giggles leapt from my throat, he smiled in gentle awkwardness, "Yeah, I guess it really isn't that bad…I just didn't want to rip you from your slumber."

I looked over to the small book he was reading just before I woke up, _Lolita?_ _Oh, so that's why you were so embarrassed._ He observes my line of sight beaming straight to the book he had been reading and he clears his throat, "...It's just that you reminded me that I should really read it again and I had it in my bag for the longest time and it would seem weird to be reading a children's book rather than this one, you have stated you enjoy this book as well…" the sentence shattered due to his trembling voice. _Oh my naughty Professor! You were reading such erotic literature out loud to me whilst I slept, in a hospital? _

I sat up, and regained some of my confidence, "Where are you?"

His glasses slid sweetly down the slope of his nose, a clockwork finger pressing it back to its rightful position, "Pardon?"

My hand outstretched to the direction of the book, "You can pick up where you left off…" He flinched, his breath stopped short, analyzing the situation. I flattened the sheets on my thighs and glanced innocently at him, "…at least finish the chapter you are on."

He sighed and tensely picked up the book, flipped to the slapdash bookmark he fashioned from a corner of loose leaf, and flicked his gaze unsurely at me, "I am in the middle of chapter thirteen, just begun. I'll read a couple of pages for it seems that I owe you that much." I nodded and smiled politely, awaiting his gentle reading voice to shower over me. He inhales sharply, "'By this time I was in a state of excitement bordering on insanity; but I also had the cunning of the insane. Sitting there, on the sofa, I managed to attune, by a series of stealthy movements…'" The passage he was up to was increasingly difficult for him to read to me, not pertaining to the language but because this specific part was extremely erotic. His voice successfully pronounced the most troublesome of words with fluidity that cannot be matched. The professionalism in his tone crept inside my ears and set my blood aflame. Only a few times did his uneasiness crack through his hardened exterior; each tiny moment stole my breath. The humor in the text did allow a small chuckle from his or my part because even how alluring the words that float from his mouth are the delivery is very comical; especially in the hands of a seemingly stalwart Professor. His eyes were intently scanning the material before him, his powerful fingers gripping the sides of the text with shaky precision, and he barely breathed between sentences which made his performance all the more enjoyable. I basked in his wonderful submission wrought personally by yours truly. I tilted my head back slightly, peering down at my humbly punished Professor. My grin wickedly deepened as he continued to delve into his seductive subconscious.

He glanced over to me for a split second, my arousal blatantly plastered on my face. In that moment he altered his method of reading, slowed his pace, and augmented the erotic flow of his rendition. Professor Kelly's voice was teasingly tantalizing, my right hand wadded up a fistful of white sheets as an attempt to conceal some of my lust. He placed his elbows on his knees, bringing his voice closer to me; a mere foot away from my own bed. He brought the volume of his tone to a half whisper, since this was the most enticing portion of the chapter, "'…I entered a plane of being where nothing mattered, save the infusion of joy brewed within my body. What had begun as a delicious disten tion of my innermost roots became a glowing tingle which_ now_ had reached that state of absolute security, confidence and reliance not found elsewhere in conscious life…'" His words flowed from his lips so silky smooth; they encircled around me and trapped me within a whirlwind of sensual stimulation. The annoying ache within the pit of my stomach was becoming too insufferable; the most primal of all my senses shuddered through me.

The white fabric that surrounded my hungry body clung to my increasingly damp skin; the sweat from my inner flame generously coated my concealed body. I attempted to alleviate the uncomfortable heat by shifting my legs a bit, which brought his attention back up to my flushed face. His own promptly switched from a mischievous grin to an uneasy stare. He paused his reading, "Are you alright? Would you like me to continue?" I gave him a weak nod, trying to shield my darker emotions. He placed the book upside down, pages spread wide, and leaned forward to feel my forehead with the back of his hand. His body carefully hovering over mine, I was able to make out the small bones of his wrist as his arm extended towards me, and his breath unintentionally panted across my face; a rush of cinnamon mixed with the faint scent of coffee flushed over me. I noticed that his breath was unsteady as if he had just rushed into this room to feel my forehead; _you want to act like reading that book was nothing, but in truth you are just as worked up as I am._

I felt oddly secure in the hot shade that smoothed over his cheekbones, and the warmth of his aura was tangible even in our closing proximity, "You do seem a bit warm." I sighed delicately at his soft touch; _I can feel your heat as well._

He withdrew a bit, still perched over me, and I smirked cautiously, "Isn't that normal?" His eyes questioned my retort, trying to connect the two ideas. _He really is thick headed, I mean, he should know, he is as disheveled as I am. _I straightened myself properly and he eased away from me a little, I looked over at the small novel sprawled on my table.

He closed his eyes slowly and a dumb smile curled on his lips, "Maybe this is not so beneficial to your health."

I looked deeply into his iris, "I wouldn't say it is hindering my recovery." He chuckles silently and gently lifts my sheets to cover my chest to my neck; his fingers lightly pull the fabric and I look down at them gliding fluently up my body, covering me with innocent white comfort.

He placed a couple of fingers on my brow once more, moving some stray hair back in place, "Don't you worry, I will give you plenty of time to recover." His fingertips glided down the side of my face for his parting gesture.

He gathered up his things, replaced his tattered bookmark, and I smugly grinned, "Thank you for your mercy, and your unexpected visit."

He turned around to face me, "I am happy to see you healthy, it was my _pleasure_." His voice trailed off into a sinister tone which followed him ominously out of the gravely silent room and I was left in my untainted ivory sheets tucked in by his crafty digits; I gawked at his retreating shape in dumbfounded awe.


End file.
